When The Levee Breaks
by maggiequeen
Summary: "You do know our parents are watching this, right?" Puck leers oblivious to the cameras. "My dads walked in on us twice, and your mom used to get grape-flavored condomes because she knew it's my fav-" "Okay!" Akira cuts in mortified. Puckelberry! complete
1. Pink tinted bubble

**Hi! I'm magggiequeen and I want to thank all of you just for reading this. hopefully you'll like it, and keep in mind that, though it may seem a little out of character at first, it's really mostly for the purpose of this chapter, and it will definately get better. **

**I own Glee, you know, I just running try outs online to see if the fans like where the show is going. ha.**

* * *

Chapter 1: Come join me at my pink tinted bubble.

"Noah, I need you right now! She changed her mind when the pizza guy showed up and she physically attacked him! Now she wants ice cream, and she threw the remote at me after I told her we'd run out, which I ducked, _obviously_ – I do have marvelous reflexes-, only to have her reach for my cell phone –_my_ cell phone- and directed it towards my shoulder!" Rachel's hysterical voiced cried desperately from the other end of the line, all form of civil greeting being forgotten at the moment he'd picked up. "It is starting to bruise, Noah, do you know how unattractive that is?" she whined.

Strangely, weir, mind-boggling phone conversations like that one –mostly one sided, by the way- had become a regular on Puck's life in the past few weeks. It was so pathetic, he didn't even had the will to growl or sneer or even snap at the insane demands he'd had to put up with since the truth had come out and he was allowed to act as the father of Quinn's baby, which, just to be clear, he was all in. He knew exactly that a pregnant girl needed special treatment, just like the baby needed pre-natal vitamins, and he'd picked up a thing or two hearing Finn talking about how tiring it was to be on call _all the time_ looking out for Quinn's needs. But he really wanted to be the guy at her very whim, because, seriously, that was his baby she was having and the least he could do was getting her ice cream when felt like it. There were about five months to go before the baby was born and a decision was made, but until then he'd sign in full time and was keeping his word and taking care of Quinn and their daughter.

Having Rachel Berry be a daily, irritating, constantly annoying part of his life, Puck did not sign on for.

"I'll be there in fifteen," Puck said closing his locker.

"Wait!" she cried before he hung up and he actually had to shove the phone away from his ear because he may have just gotten his eardrum punctured. "Did you have practice today?" she asked panicky.

"Uh-huh."

"Then take as long as you need, but _please_," was that fear she'd just stressed in that word? "Please shower first. I don't her vomiting all over my ottoman couch _again_," not one word later, the conversation ended.

If two weeks ago someone had told Puck that the worst kept secret coming bluntly out in the open would directly imply that Rachel Berry would become a recurring role in his life, he would have snorted derisively and brushed the prediction off his back. Once the truth came out, he thought, it would all be about him, Quinn and their unborn daughter from then on. Not.

It started right after Quinn realized she could no longer live with Finn since he wanted nothing to do with her. Without consulting Puck, she'd run back to her parents, only to get their front door hitting her nose as they slammed it closed with super human strength. Apparently, the only thing worst than being pregnant at sixteen was having cheated on your boyfriend and getting knocked up by his best friend, and then pretend that hadn't happened at all and lie to your boyfriend and make him believe you could get pregnant without even getting to second base first.

Puck had promptly offered her to stay at his place right after the parent fiasco, which she refused at once. In retrospective, he thought that was probably a wise move on her part, since he hadn't even told his mother about the situation at the time and showing up with a pregnant chick carrying your kid, who wasn't and never really had been your girlfriend and was your best friend's ex girlfriend and pretending her to live under their roof was a little too shocking to happen all at once. Not to mention that it wouldn't take his mom long to see the big golden crux hanging from Quinn's neck which, in case none of the other many aspects of their dilemma had, would certainly manage to drive her over the edge. But she had refused and was only willing to change her mind if no better option came along before the end of that day, which had them both scanting for a place for her to stay. Quinn's first choice were the members of the abundant entourage of "friends", who all came around with a wide variety of excuses, from the sensible ones ("We have never really been friends") to the down right lame ones ("I don't have a spare bedroom" or –his personal favorite- "My couch recently caught fire"). Brittney, out of her very personal idiocy or whatever, had been one of the few people to go fully honest on her reasons for not being able to welcome her into her home.

"My parents are friends with yours, and they don't think you're a good influence," she'd whispered lamely. "I'd sneak you in the attic, but I got in real trouble when I did that for Ginger."

"Ginger?" Puck asked, thinking hard and trying to identify the girl she was talking about. He was a horny sixteen year old, after all.

"My bat," Brittney smiled cheerily. Then her expression saddened. "They had to take her away because she was sick, but Animal Control said she may have babies hidden in the walls," she added crossing her fingers.

Quinn began to grow desperate after Brittney shut her down. It suddenly occurred to her that she had no one else to turn to: Mr. Shue was out of the question, it was too embarrassing to even be at the same room as he at the same time, and the same went for Mercedes and Tina; they had been occasionally nice to her, but that didn't mean they wouldn't shut her down like the rest had, and Quinn no longer had the strength to face rejection again. Staying at Puck's may be awkward and embarrassing, but putting up with it and his mother seemed the only option she had left.

And then Rachel came out of nowhere and told her she had plenty of room at her hose and that she'd already checked if her dads were okay with her staying over until she came up with a more suitable arrangement. Quinn hadn't even asked her, hadn't even considered Rachel's house as a maybe, but there she was, so much as dragging her to her car, telling her she'd recruited their fellow Glee Clubbers (that is, the ones who hadn't taken part on the monumental fight), arranged for them to stop by Finn's (with his permission, of course) and had them pick up her belongings and take it all to her place, where Rachel would be waiting for them, having already installed Quinn on their guest bedroom. She'd also mentioned that, while Artie was hardly suited for the job at hand and Kurt would probably whine all the way around ("God forbids he cracks a nail or we'll never hear the end of it!"), it was preferable to rely on Mercedes and Tina alone to get the job done rather than enlisting Puck. He could come over to her place if he wanted and help Quinn settle in, but for the sake of his health, he should avoid direct contact with Finn or his mother at all cost.

Puck had been at football practice while Rachel rearranged Quinn's entire life, so he was a little shocked when he checked his phone back in the locker room and found a text from her instructing him to meet her at Berry's and bring a Monte Cristo sub and some Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. He'd texted back, asking exactly where she wanted to meet him, trusting it was typo or another Berry he didn't know about, but with a wicked smily Quinn sent him the address of Rachel's house, which he already knew, hence confirming Puck dire fears.

He carried the same ice cream flavor in a paper bag as he left his truck on the driveway and headed toward the front door, which opened before he could even start climbing up the short front steps. Obviously, Rachel had been closely keeping an eye on the driveway, biting her nails off with anxiety. Puck quickly hid his smirk before giving her the chance to bitch slap it off his face. While Berry was insanely annoying 24/7, she wasn't one to freak out often: that only happened when she felt her most precious solos where being stolen away from her clutches, and even then her freaking out merely consisted on storming out whichever room she was occupying at the moment. Now she looked like she was on some serious need of alcohol and maybe some happy pills too. Her hair was messy, her mocha eyes wide open, sparkling –with what, exactly? Anger? Fear? Murder, maybe?-, her knuckled white so hard she was grasping on the knob. On the other hand, she was partially leaning on the door, her body evidently tired.

"Looking good Berry," he smirked.

"I don't appreciate the irony right now, Noah," she snapped narrowing her eyes.

"Okay," he nodded. "You look terrible. When was the last time you showered?"

She gave him a single look. _Shut up and get in._

He walked through the threshold brushing past Rachel. He almost expected Quinn to jump from the nearest corner and snatch the ice cream off his hand. Wouldn't be a first.

"Where's--?" he started, but Rachel hushed him, waving her hands toward the living room. "Wha--?" she hushed him again. "Don't shush me!" he whispered.

Anger apart, he followed her lead toward the kitchen. On their way, they heard Quinn's voice calling. "Rachel? Is that Puck? Did you bring my ice cream Puck?"

"He did!" Rachel cried back overenthusiastically. "We're just going to get you a spoon!" and then she gestured for Puck to get in the kitchen.

Rachel lent on the closed door and shut her eyes, slowly breathing in and out to calm down. Puck could totally see her mentally counting to ten and back.

"So what did you girls do today?" he asked giddily.

Her eyes snapped open. "Noah," she started high pitched.

"Was it any fun?"

"_Noah,_" she repeated menacingly stressing the word.

He rolled his eyes. She was no fun.

"You don't have to tell me, all right?" he said. "I'm talking to her again; I'll convince her this time."

"Pull out the guns if you have to. And by _guns_ I don't mean your goodies," she went on. "I mean violence. A good smack on the head won't hurt the baby."

When Rachel, the epitome of world wide peace and queen of come-join-me-at-my-pink-tinted-bubble land, was suggesting they use physical violence against a pregnant girl, you just knew something was miserably wrong. Puck had to stop her right there.

"No one forced you into this," he reminded her.

Her upper lip started trembling. "I know that," she hissed. "And I don't regret it. It was a good deed and I'm surely going to Heaven," she stated confidently. "I'm also sure that a jury would unanimously find me not guilty for murdering her if she doesn't change her attitude. I'm a very selfless person when it comes to other people's problem, Noah," she said fully convinced of her every word, taking one step closer to him. Puck internally winced at his sudden urge to back down. "Not to mention my patience, under the right circumstances, can be quite limitless. But even I have to draw the line sometimes," she continued gravely. "Losing control is highly unappealing and granted, I haven't been dedicating nearly as much time as I usually do to myself, which is causing me to feel like I live amongst chaos."

"You have a point right?"

"_Where's the ice cream?!" _

Rachel literally winced. "Have you any idea how mean she can be?" she whined from behind her hands. "She got slushied today, so of course I helped her clean up, but every word that comes out of my mouth she manages to find a whole different meaning for it and she actually thought I was mocking her when I mentioned that, while uncomfortable, slushies do have a positive impact on one's hair. She dipped my purse under the running water, Noah," bambie eyes all the way down. "And that was only this morning. I have two weeks of precious moments like that one that keep piling up!"

"_Ice cream! Hello?"_

Puck watched as Rachel's lips pressed into a thin white line across her face.

"Okay," he sighed. "I'll stay with her for a while; go and do whatever is you do to chill out."

She nodded and smiled wholeheartedly before she opened the door.

"Rachel," he called softly before she was out of hearing. She turned around stared back at him expectantly. He momentarily forgot what he'd wanted to say in the first place. "Uh-- thanks for," he gestured with his hands the wide space all around him, unable to put words to the proper acknowledgement she deserved for everything she'd done for them. "Thanks."

She gave him a shy smile and looked at her feet. "Spoons are on the second drawer," she informed him before running past the living room (_"Where's my ice cream?"_) and up the staircase.

* * *

**Short, I know, but I usually start with short chapters and then, bam! you get chapter like seven thousand words long. I'll review soon, I promise, probably before Christmass, so keep an eye.**

**I appreciate reviews, so go, click, and write. It really doesn't get much easier.**


	2. Green light go Puck

**Hi everybody! thanks a lot for all the reviews and the alerts! they made me so happy! Oh, I forgot to mention on the disclaimer last chapter, that "When the levee breaks" is song by Led Zeppelin, and, sadly, I do not own it.**

* * *

Chapter 2: Green light go Puck

Quinn's hazel eyes narrowed suspiciously and fixated on Puck's walking form as he entered the living room, ice cream in one hand and two spoons in the other.

"What took you so long?" she asked, her arms crossed over her chest, redirecting her attention back to the animated movie she was watching.

"Beery needed to vent," Puck explained curtly and sat beside her in the ottoman couch, carefully avoiding touching the part Quinn had vomited all over on last week.

Quinn just snorted and proceeded to raid the ice cream.

For the next half an hour or so they just sat there and watched the movie ("Joseph: King of Dreams"), only interacting with each other when Puck inconspicuously tried to get a spoon full of ice cream without Quinn noticing, but failed miserably most of the times and she took her revenge by hitting him with the vomited cushion. The movie kept on rolling and Puck could not be any more bored. What was it about animated movies that liked Quinn so much? Every time he came around he found both of them (if there was live in music, Berry was a sucker for the movie too) side to side, enchanted by characters. They weren't even real people, yet they squealed like eleven year olds when the Little Mermaid saved the prince from drowning and sighed in relief when she took him back to beach and they had they first wrecked one on one. It was so lame. Not to mention the music. If he had to listen to a Whole New World one more time he'd slit his wrist.

Music started playing upstairs, not exactly loud, but enough for them to notice it. Quinn pursed her lips. "There is always music in this house," she complained. "All the time. And they sing over it," she added. "It's so annoying."

"My house is always quiet," Puck mentioned.

She rolled her eyes. "We're not having this conversation again, Puck."

"My mom's always at work," he went on, stealing some ice cream from her. This time it went unnoticed. "My sister's tiny and is going through that phase where she hates everybody and stays in her room."

"Great, so there'll be just you and me all alone all the time," she smiled disgusted. "You won't convince me that way. Or any way. So just stop."

He sighed tiredly.

"Did you know Berry and her dads are being sued?" she brought up out of the blue. Puck raised a questionable brow at her. "The entire neighborhood wants them to move away because she sings too loud."

He gave a short whistle. That had to be tough.

"And they don't drink coffee here," Quinn jumped to a completely different subject. Maybe Rachel wasn't the only one who needed to vent.

"You can't have coffee either way," he reminded her, yawning.

She turned her head fiercely and glared. "I know my limitations, Puck, I don't need the reminder."

He growled internally. There was way too much tension around that place.

"I need money," Quinn said after a few minutes, avoiding his eyes. She looked decidedly flustered. "I have to buy stuff."

"Sure," he nodded. Then he figured that she might be offended if he just gave it to her without even asking what it was for. Their relationship might not be romantic or anything, but he should at least try and keep the feedback going. "What do you have to buy?"

She turned fierce again. "Drugs and cigarettes," she snapped sourly.

"I'm just trying to have a normal conversation. If you can't do that," he reached down his front pocket, took out a couple wrinkled hundred dollars and threw it over her lap.

Quinn pursed her lips again. If she wasn't careful with that facial expression she'd be getting permanent lines. "I have to get some new clothes," she told him more calmly. "My jeans and shirts don't fit me anymore and it's too cold to keep on wearing dresses."

He smirked. "Was that so hard?"

"Shut up."

* * *

Rachel sang happily up her lungs while Tonight from West Side Story enveloped her all around. The privacy of her room had never before seemed so wonderful and while having company around the house when her dad and daddy were at work was something she'd craved for years, the blessings of being an only child were now being bluntly pointed out for her.

She sighed as she brushed her long brown hair sitting in front of her vanity. She really had to keep a leash on her emotions. Rampage outbursts were highly unladylike, as opposed to her mild temper. A storm out now and then she could condone, but her recent behavior was decidedly reproachable. Her parents had always stressed the importance of being tolerant to others and their special situations, in hopes that they'd be tolerant to you when needed, and that was a lesson she believed deserved to live by. She knew what things would be like when she'd offered Quinn her help, considering their past clashes to one another, and she had fully committed to the job. It wasn't Quinn's fault that her life was anything but ruined, and it wasn't Rachel's place to overreact on how her own life was being affected by the whole situation when she'd gladly lent out a hand for Quinn and Puck.

She had other things in her head though, things she should be paying more attention to rather than get all worked up over Quinn's situation. Glee Club was drifting away and if she didn't do something to fix it fast all the hard work they had invested in Sectionals would all go to waste and she'd be utterly humiliated at Regionals. People remembers failure more than they do success and Rachel could not have a spectacular career if every time people heard something about her they'd relate it to that dashing, talented girl in Regionals whose team did not have what it takes to win.

She didn't care one tiny bit that Mr. Shuester was getting divorced from his psycho, pill popping wife, or that Mike and Matt were on Finn's side and refused to work with Puck, or that Kurt always had some sly comment to break the ice which more often than not concerned her outfit of the day, or that Quinn insisted on keeping her head down during the entire time, avoiding any looks headed in her direction, or that Puck always showed up with a new bruise on his face. Differences aside, Glee Club was to have fun. Fun, as in working hard until your lungs couldn't bear to breathe and you knees were bloody so you could know you were the _best_. That's what Glee was all about, and Rachel wasn't going to rest until they'd achieved their goals –_her_ goals-, no matter how much baby daddy drama she had to sort out.

With their outstanding winning at Sectionals, her teammates had become less inspired and view Regionals as something that was still quite far in the horizon. Mr. Shuester did try to encourage them by bringing new songs and coming up with interesting –not great- choreographs, but it was clear to Rachel that the rush she felt by bettering herself and focusing in her goals, no matter how out of reach they seemed at the moment, was not a feeling shared by the other Glee Clubbers. They needed to have the challenge looming over their heads, since, as the amateurs they were, they worked better under pressure, as opposed to Rachel's wise experience at planning in advance and remaining in a constant state of readiness. Even worst than their lack of enthusiasm –be it by the drama that had infested Glee, she didn't care: sloth was a sin and a disease that jeopardized any young starlet's career- was the fact that winter break had started effectively the moment the clock marked three o'clock that afternoon, which had been two hours ago. That meant two weeks of no school, religious festivities, and –why, God, why?- no Glee.

She'd given the situation a lot of thought the past week, had even mentioned to Mr. Shue what a break like that would do to group and their chances of beating Vocal Adrenaline at Regionals and climb one step closer to their much deserved place at Nationals. He'd leveled with her –if only to humor her- and offered them the possibility to get together at least once a week and warm up their cords. Silly him, he'd put the decision to vote instead of putting his foot down and made them accept it. The suggestion was rejected, no matter how convincing Rachel's speech was and how many Thank You cookies she'd promised to bake for them; in the end, all the kids left her standing in the middle of the choir room alone, following Kurt and Mercedes and the incisive snap that had Rachel speechless and holding back tears of impotence. Quinn was one of the ones that voted for taking the whole winter break as time off, but she was the only one who'd stay in the room with Rachel after the rest turned their collective back on her. As necessity would have it, their living setting had managed to form a bond, a quasi-friendship between them. Rachel forgave her, though; she knew Quinn's vote came out of her sensitivity and wishing to avoid people rather than laziness and indifference.

* * *

"So why are you being such a bitch?" Puck blurted out as Joseph and his brother sang a bonding song.

Quinn didn't roll her eyes, frown, purse her lips or even turn to shoot him a nasty look. If she hadn't spoken a few seconds later, Puck would have thought she hadn't even heard him.

"Is that what she said?" she asked slowly. "That I'm being a bitch?"

"Of course not," he snorted. "Berry doesn't swear. It's unladylike," he snorted. "She said your being difficult."

Her eyes kept fixated on the plasma screen, but Puck doubted she was really paying any attention to the movie. Her lips tensed slightly though, like she was trying real hard to hide whatever emotion Berry's words statement evoked. "How can he forgive them after all they did to him?" she asked.

_He_?

A confused frown set on Puck's face. What was she talking about? "You mean him?" Puck nodded to the screen. She nodded back as an affirmative answer. "Um," he said, not sure exactly what that had to do with their current topic. "It's a movie," Puck shrugged. "They have to forgive each other."

"I saw my mom today when we were driving back from school," her face softened. "She was outside the groceries, putting all the bags in the backseat of my car, chatting with a friend," her lips pursed. "Acting like everything's normal, getting stuff for Christmas. And I just started thinking how my dad is probably field testing all the trees until he decides which one's perfect and then they'll sat down in the kitchen table, drinking hot cocoa and choosing the carols for Christmas Eve…" Quinn sighed deeply and seemed to mentally shake off the memory. "The whole thing sort of… bugged me. I didn't mean to be horrible to Man Hands. I just didn't have anybody else to bitch on."

Despite the insulting name, Quinn truly sounded like she was sorry and was _this _close to start sobbing on the nearest shoulder. Being that it was his, Puck crossed his fingers and wished she held back the tears: he didn't do well with crying women.

"Maybe you should tell her that," he suggested, hesitating before placing a warm hand on her forearm and rubbing encouragingly.

Quinn nodded –eyes still up front- and half smiled. They went back to watch the last few minutes of the movies and, seeing as Puck hand remained in the same spot, she half turned to him. "You're not trying to get me to make out with you, aren't you?"

"No," he retorted decidedly.

"Good."

* * *

Rachel had just finished uploading the day's due MySpace video ("With or without you", with a soulful approach) when she heard a soft knocking on her door, followed by Quinn's hesitant form as she walked in the yellow walled bedroom. "Hi," she greeted awkwardly.

"Hi," Rachel stood up from her bed and closed her laptop.

"So Puck left," Quinn mentioned, her hands locked together holding her rounded belly. "You know how he works the night shift today."

Rachel nodded. In the past few weeks she'd it made a must to memorize Noah's schedule: classes, basketball practice, home and work. She had his phone and home number on speed dial, memorized his mother's –just in case- and color charted a timetable that specified exactly when and where he was supposed to be at every minute of the day. The system was a complete success, except for the fact that Coach Tanaka would occasionally add surprise basketball practice randomly as a response (Noah preferred to refer to them as fucking punishment) to the attitude the team was behaving lately, uniting against Noah, taking Finn's side, and making Noah pay for screwing up. While the Coach claimed to find such conduct reprehensible, Noah believed that he too had a bone to pick on him and would very much like to kick him out of the team, which he couldn't do without reasonable cause. Hence, he came out every week with newer and more original exercises that always ended up in the team beating the will of living out of him using their elbows and the basketball, forcing him to snap and provide a cause of expulsion, which he had yet to do.

Aside from the surprise practices, Noah's life was joyfully predictable, allowing Rachel to reach him easily and knowing when she could count on him and when she had to manage on her own. He'd seemed annoyed at first when she interrogated him on his daily activities in order to get her chart as accurate as possible, but after some nagging here and there he'd come around and answered all her questions. For the sake of maintaining the peaceful relationship that had settle between them in the past weeks (only for Quinn's benefit, of course) Rachel had made a mental note of never ever let it reach his knowledge that she had color charted his entire daily routine. Though her intentions were perfectly innocent, she admitted that the 2 square feet board hanging inside her closet might be received as quite stalker-ish.

"Did you enjoy the movie?" Rachel asked politely. Quinn's mood tended to chance a lot, though she seemed calmed at the moment.

"Yes," she nodded. "It has a great message."

They fell to silence, expectantly on Rachel's side, while Quinn anything but squirmed. Whatever was that she wanted to say, it was taking a lot of strength out of her.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted today," she finally said, staring at her slippers. "I just…"

"Quinn, you don't have to do that," Rachel shook her head, taking one step closer to the tall blond. "I overreacted."

"I hit you with your phone," Quinn stressed the horror of the act. "I didn't think my aim was that good, but still!" she reached out and grabbed Rachel's hand. "I shouldn't have done that. Not when you've been nothing but nice, and tolerant and…"

Rachel's short bark of laughter cut her off. "Sorry," she apologized. "But it's not like you and me were bff before and I never expected our whole relationship to turn around in two weeks. And I haven't been completely nice either," she shook hear head regretfully. "The things I said to Noah about you earlier…"

"That I was being difficult?"

"Please," Rachel snorted. "I told him to use physical violence on you to get you to move out and that I could easily get away with murdering you because the authorities would see that no sane man or woman could put up with you."

"How very honest of you," Quinn retorted, blank faced.

And then hilarity rolled in and they started laughing. Hard. It was completely bizarre. Quinn Fabray was laughing with Rachel Berry, not _at_ her. Rachel wondered if she hadn't slipped on the shower and this was all a delusion cause by the concussion she must have gotten. But no, she hadn't slipped and she was sharing a joke with Quinn, holding on to each other because they were just laughing so hard they couldn't stop for breathing.

It wore down after a while, only remaining girly giggles and teary eyes. But they'd had their moment, and Rachel couldn't understand how was it that a couple of hours earlier she'd been ready to pack up Quinn's suitcase and throw her out on the street, or worse, to _Noah's_. They talked about nonsense later and planned a trip to the mall for the next day ("We should get there early so we can avoid any unpleasant company," Rachel had told her, keeping in mind the frequency in which the hokey team and some of the basketball and football team would slushie Quinn with religious conviction). After a while Quinn left to take a shower and Rachel went down stairs to take care of diner before her dad and daddy got home from work. It was Italian night: the day was ending up better than she'd anticipated.

* * *

"Morning everybody," Rachel greeted in her cheerful sing sang voice as she entered the kitchen area the next morning. She kissed her dad and daddy in the cheek before taking her usual seat next to Quinn in the island.

Weekend's breakfast was one of Rachel's favorite family traditions. While on the rest of the week they still shared the same morning time, it was usually rushed and messy since everybody had a place to be at in the short term future and they were all busy getting their things ready before they left, making it difficult to maintain a conversation. On weekends her daddy would make for breakfast the only two things he could prepare on his own without risking mayor accidents. Saturdays was French Toasts and Sundays was hotcakes with his secret sugar butter syrup and strawberries, either one accompanied with milk and a cup of any of the large variety of tea they had. They would seat around the island with their plates before them and eat quietly, talking about the positive aspects of their week (The Berrys had rules, and one of them was not to discuss stressful matter around the innocent and easily influenced ears of their little girl) and planning for family activities they'd like to do in the near future. It had been funny to see how Quinn reacted to their dynamic on the first couple of days, since Rachel knew for sure she'd expected them to be two depraved homosexual males, cracking distasteful jokes about their past endeavors as single men in the ever changing world of same gender dating. Rachel blamed several T.V. shows for influencing the minds of a whole generation by forming an inaccurate stereotype of homosexual relationships.

But Quinn snapped out of her shock rather quickly and had thus far mad no comment whatsoever that implied that she believed their relationship was unholy. It wasn't exactly something strange though: Rachel's dad and daddy had been nothing but supportive to Quinn and had welcomed her with their arms outstretched, treating her like family; she was going through a time in her life when she didn't receive that attitude often by the majority of people, and it was becoming easier and easier to recognize those who accepted her and respond in kind.

Rachel noticed vaguely how her dad and daddy exchanged odd looks. "Do you want to tell them or should I?" her dad asked his partner. "Can I tell them?"

Rachel and Quinn looked up.

"Go ahead, dear," Rachel's daddy said with a smile on his face, shaking his head slowly.

"I had a little chat this week with Roselee Stuart," he said attempting to sound casual and failing admirably.

Rachel's eyes flew wide open. "The Mayor's head of public relationships?"

"The same."

"Oh, dad! Please tell me you asked her about the Christmas Eve festival," Rachel pleaded leaning over the island to reach her dad's hand.

The both of them just smiled at their daughter's insistence. "He did," her daddy replied glowing with pride.

"Now, she said it wasn't her call," the other said in a more serious tone. "But that if properly approached, the Mayor might be interested."

Rachel squealed of happiness, jumped off her chair and flew to hug and kiss her dad.

"Thank you so much! But how can I convince the Mayor?" she wondered more to herself. It wasn't like she could just march in his office first thing on Monday and tell him how convenient it would be for his administration to gift a show full of talent to the Lima community.

"My company is having the Christmas party earlier this week," Rachel's daddy informed her, placing a gentle hand over her shoulder. "So that everybody can come and we don't clash with other parties," he added. "The Mayor will be there tonight. You and Quinn are invited a well."

It was her daddy's time to receive Rachel's hug full frontal. For a girl of her size, she was stronger than she seemed.

Her parents went on with their business and talking about things that didn't concern the girl, leaving them to their food and their own topics of conversation. After she was sure Rachel's dad and daddy weren't paying them any attention, Quinn turned to her over her glass of milk and asked her under her breath. "I'm correct when I think that the whole deal about the Christmas festival involves in some way Glee Club, right?"

"Right," Rachel smiled happily.

"Rachel," Quinn whined. "The whole point of the holiday break was that I'd get two weeks of peace and quiet. That's not gonna happen if we're stuck with Finn and the others," she bit her lip staring down her plate. "I don't think I can be a part of it."

Rachel sighed. She'd anticipated Quinn may not be all in, which had allowed her to come out with the perfect excuse to elbow her into participating. "But Quinn, it's you messiah's birthday! How would he feel knowing that you walked out on the opportunity of paying him due homage?"

If the show business had taught anything to Rachel in her sixteen years on stage was that one's personal opinions hardly mattered when the chance of performing in front of an eager audience was dancing in front of your eyes. Either way, these were times of compromising, and the Christmas Eve festival was just another stage Glee could take over. She had the feeling her fellow teammates would gladly jump in the opportunity to prove Glee Club wasn't the niche for losers everybody thought it was. And Mr. Shue would most likely be everlasting thankful to her for coming in the rescue of their reputation. Again.

"Okay," Quinn nodded, a little more positive than Rachel had thought she would. But who could blame her? If there was one thing Rachel knew she excelled at –aside from stage performance- was using her God gifted talent with words and talking people into doing what she wanted.

* * *

The mall was leaking merriment for the holidays: a huge glittering tree standing in the middle of the hall, children lining up to sit on Santa's lap and request their presents, people walking with colorful bags, stopping by the stores to inspect the items in display, everybody was shopping, happy and cheerful, minding their own business. Rachel and Quinn had a lovely time going from store to store picking up clothes that fitted Quinn more gracefully and protected her form the cold winter outside. They got maternity jeans, which were great because they could stretch almost infinitely, meaning they wouldn't become useless when her baby bump grew bigger, loose long sleeve shirts, sweaters and even a jacket. It took Rachel a trip to her best convincing techniques archive but she managed to convince Quinn into letting her buy her a dress for her dad's company party that night, courtesy of daddy's emergency card.

They were on their way out when Rachel caught a glimpse of an item of clothing that suddenly held all of her attention. She stood in front of the store window and stared drooling at the most beautiful trench coat she'd even seen in her entire life. It was made of leather, a fabric she'd personally never been fond of, but seeing it so well put together, Rachel knew she could totally rock that look. The coloring was a dark, deep shade of brown, shiny and free of imperfections. It was very traditional, though it had some details that clearly set it apart from the other ordinary coats (Rachel for one believed details were the most important thing to take into consideration, and she would never purchase not even a pair of knee highs if they didn't have something special going on, even if no one noticed, which no one usually did. Kurt at one point had complimented her on the skirt she was wearing one day, because even though he believed the length of the skirt was virtually nonexistent, the barely noticeable ruffle at the hem managed to pull it off nicely). It ended up mid-thigh, with pointy flaps on the neckline, two rails of buttons made of some vintage looking bronze material on the front and three of them, smaller than the ones on the front, on each sleeve; the stitching had been done with a lighter shade of brown, standing out gracefully against the dark material and the belt that rounded the natural waist line (one of Rachel's favorites parts of her body) had a sizable, yet considerably simple broach made in the same material as the buttons.

"Wow," she heard Quinn next to her. "That's a cute coat. You should get it."

"Don't be silly, Quinn," she retorted. "It'd be highly irresponsible of me to spend all that money on a coat that could so easily be ruined by a slushie."

"You haven't been slushied in months," the other girl snapped. "In case you haven't noticed, I tend to draw them all in my direction lately."

Rachel breathed in sharply and opened her mouth snap back, but changed her mind just as quickly. "Forget it," she turned around and headed towards the stairs. "You wouldn't understand."

Quinn snorted offended and followed after her. Rachel grimaced. "You've been getting slushie facials on a regular basis for what, three weeks? I've been dealing with it since Junior High and--." She gasped, her stare horrified focused on a group of guys walking together a few feet away on Quinn's back. The hockey team was walking lazily checking out the place and the girls. Some of them were holding slushies.

"Oh my God," Quinn shrieked, turning to see what held Rachel speechless. "What do we do? Where do we hide?" she asked hysterically, turning back to face Rachel and trying her best to small herself and blend in with the scenario, which was sad and funny on the same time, since she stood up everywhere she went because she was beautiful and her rounded belly drew a lot of eyes.

As always, Rachel was fast minded enough to skip the freezing and panicking part and went full on avoiding techniques. If there was one thing she'd learnt from all the years Noah had chased her around gripping on to a slushie was that giving him the chance to chase her only added more fun (on his side) to the unfortunate situation. She had also developed the ability to localize at lightning speed the best hiding spots which was why Noah had hardly ever managed to slushie her in a mall or any other public space when the opportunity presented itself, with the sole exception of the school: unlike most teen drama tv shows she'd occasionally watched, McKingly High had only one janitor's closet, and it was located right next to Figgings. Rachel believed the lack of hiding places was intentional, perhaps to prevent students to use them to their own amusement. Vaguely she remembered once trying to hide in the girls bathroom, confident he wouldn't follow after her, and became sadly mistaken. After that she'd never even attempted to hide at school from him; if she saw him coming by with a slushie, she'd just sighed and close her eyes.

She reached out and yanked Quinn by the elbow, speeding up and mixing themselves with a large group of people coming their way, managing o sneak away unnoticed and enter the first store in sight. They wouldn't try to attack them in there; if they did, they'd have to pay for all the damages they'd cause.

"We'll be perfectly safe here, she told Quinn in a confident whisper. "And since we're here, I might check out that orthopedic pillow my daddy wanted. It'd be the perfect Christmaskah gift!"

"Let's just go," Quinn pleaded, looking even more upset than before.

"Quinn," Rachel tried in a soothing voice. "I assure you they are not a threat to us here. We'll just wait for a couple of minutes and leave. They didn't even see us--"

"You don't understand! I can't be here--!"

"Quinn?"

She jerked and squealed, dropping nearly all her bags and gripping tight to Rachel's soon to be bruised forearm. She had a lot of strength.

"Mrs. Shuester," Rachel said failing to hide her confusion. Quinn was acting oddly erratic. "Hello. How are you?"

Rachel tried to ignore the fact that Quinn as now standing behind her, positioning her as some sort of human shield to protect herself for, whom? Mrs. Shuester? Why?

"I'm perfectly fine, thanks for asking," the woman smiled, her eyes ping ponging from Rachel to Quinn. "Welcome to Sheet's and Things, what can I do for you?"

"Well," Rachel started enthusiastically, but stopped when she felt a tug on her cashmere vest from the back and heard Quinn whispering. Whatever was she was saying, she sounded clearly distressed. "Actually, I got the wrong store," she said instead, wearing her oh dumb me facial expression (it is very important to have a hand at all facials expressions as possible and being able to play the part convincingly; today was just Mrs. Shuester she had to convince, but tomorrow might be the producer of West Side Story). "I thought you sold beds!" she laughed.

"Mrs. Shuester laughed too, if only a little confused. "We don't," she stated matter of factly.

"Well, I guess we'll be on our way then," Rachel waved her hand, being dragged out by Quinn. "Good bye Mrs. Shuester."

"Bye Quinn."

They walked in silence till they reached the front doors, Quinn sulking and Rachel waiting patiently for her to stop and explain what was that all about. It was very odd and she couldn't understand at all the dynamic of their conversation and Quinn's attitude. What was it about Mrs. Shuester that Quinn found so unsettling? And the older woman seemed all too familiar around Quinn, staring at her and greeting her in their way out. Maybe their relationship was less superficial than expected between the ex wife of a teacher and his student? Maybe--.

Cold sweet icky liquid drained down her face. Her eyes had closed in full survivor mode, but she hadn't snapped fast enough to duck. Quinn hadn't as well, or so much Rachel could figure out by the angry sounds she was making next to her. The perpetrators laughed meanly, and rushed past them making sure their shoulders hit their slenderer, smaller bodies, and they could make them drop their bags, then that was just a bonus.

Still not speaking, they found the car, and covered the seats with the plastic protectors Rachel kept in the truck should an incident like that ever happen, and slide in –they were deeply soaked in icky liquid, that was half the hokey team they'd just run into- holding back the tears and the shivers the cold winter wind had sneaked into them from the short walk they took towards the car. Just as she drove away, Rachel opened her mouth bitterly. "Still think I should get that coat?"

"Why, when it's so much fun crawling under a rock and hiding?" Quinn snapped in kind.

"You're one to talk," she retorted sourly.

They didn't say another word until they reached Rachel's house.

* * *

Rachel panicked when she heard a car pulling over in her driveway, afraid it was her dad and daddy getting back early from their aerobics class. She had taken off her wet clothes and had put them in the laundry, but she hadn't had a shower yet because Quinn had called bids and she just didn't feel comfortable using the one in her parent's bedroom, and explaining them why their precious little daughter and her pregnant friend had returned home drenched in cherry flavored corn syrup was not something Rachel looked forward to do. She calmed though, when she sneaked a peak and saw it was Noah's truck instead of daddy's Mini Cooper.

She reached the front door just as he rang the doorbell and opened it. He stood out there, narrowing his eyes to protect them from the shinny reflex of the sun in the snow piled up on the lawn. He frowned deeply as he saw her wearing nothing but a thin sky blue robe (which in all fairness was HOT. The thing hardly covered anything. It was more a long sweatshirt than a robe. Where did she buy her midget sized clothes and how could he stop anyone from ever mentioning they didn't fit?) and a pink tinted towel she'd clearly been using to dry her hair. It became clear to Noah what the hell just happened.

"Who did it?" he asked leaving out of his tone the manifestation of any of the many bubbling feelings that slushie (and that robe) evoked.

"Hockey team. Do you want their names?" Rachel offered.

His frown lessened and was replaced by a mischievous smirk. "Am I getting a Green Light Go Puck card?" she nodded seriously and moved away so he could come inside. "Sweet."

"Quinn's upstairs, taking a shower," she informed him.

"Yeah, I just dropped by because she said she had to buy some stuff and I figured I'd get her some more money," Puck mentioned.

She nodded. "We covered almost everything she had in mind this morning, but I guess she wouldn't mind some spare cash," she motioned toward the living room. "You're welcomed to wait for her. Would you like something to drink?"

"A beer would be great," he shrugged.

"But you're not twenty one," Rachel frowned.

"Sure I am," he smirked again shoved his wallet out of the back of his jeans and handed her his ID.

Slightly confused, she took it and inspected it (Puck grinned internally. She was so innocent!). Then Rachel glared. "Your name is _not _Douglas Appleby."

"Are you gonna call the police or something?" he mocked.

"I should!"

_Oh shit, she totally would!_

"Come on!" he tried to convince her (_Do not panic!_)

"This is a serious crime, Noah," she shook her head, disapproving.

"If I go to jail you'll never get rid of Quinn," he threatened every bit as serious as he wanted to sound. Just to make sure she got the message, he muttered: "_Never_."

She had that look on her face, the one she got when she was determined to do something so badly nothing, with the sole exception of God and Barbra Streisand, could possible stop her. Their eyes locked for an infinite minute, daring, silently expectant to whatever the other was going to do. Would she run to the phone and call the authorities? Would he tackle her to stop her?

Choice number one was selected, and Rachel ran for dear life outside the living room. Puck wasn't far behind her, and his legs were longer than hers so he could catch up on her real quick. But she knew her house and he didn't, which was the one and only reason why she jumped over the carpet in the foyer on her way to the kitchen instead of running right over it; Puck did exactly that, and ended up slipping and colliding again the wall in front of him, dropping a flower vase in the mean time. He didn't stop the pursue though and caught up on her on the kitchen just as she reached the first drawer on the counter, sliding an arm around her waist, keeping her back firmly against his chest and rising her a couple of inches above the ground, while he tried to snatch the fake ID away from her with his free hand, which she kept swinging in the air up her head. She was making these huffed little sounds that confused him for one moment (was he holding her too tight?), but then he remembered Rachel was extremely sensitive to tickling and that his hand across her waist was probably torturing her right now, unintentionally. He thought about letting her go for a moment, but then, what the hell? She kidnapped his fake ID!

With a wicked smirk across his face, his free hand abandoned the struggle for the ID and joined his other one around Rachel's abdomen, tickling mercilessly, feeling her gasp for air, laugh, cry call his name to stop and squirming against him trying to get away. It didn't crossed his mind it was Rachel Berry, Gleek extraordinaire, he was involved in _tickling_ with, or thought about all the possible repercussions such activity would likely entail (like, for instance, how awkward it would get once he let her go and the lecture she was probably already preparing to give him about maintaining and respecting one's personal space). It was like they were ten years old again.

Until he saw their reflection on the window and saw one of boobs perking out of her robe.

_Oh my sweet, fucking God. _

Puck stopped the tickling immediately, not because he suddenly realized that it was childish and lame, but because he just couldn't stare at the boob and think or do anything at the same time. Awareness crept on (his left hand was _inches_away her soft skin), and he froze. Rachel was panting for air, making it all the worst because her chest would go up and down dangerously close to reach contact with his bare hand.

Their eyes locked over their reflection and he saw her widen in horror, but did nothing to remove herself from him (Puck still was holding her tight and hadn't loosened his grip around her waist not one bit, but that was beside the point). Her hands were resting over his, their fingers almost tangled. Slowly, her hands left his (he refused to miss the touch) and came to rest on the counter, her mocha eyes still wondering into his.

Puck only snapped out of the booby charm when he heard the distinctive sound of a pair of scissors sliding through a plastic card and saw her grin in triumph. Her lips formed a silent _ha-ha_ as she threw the two pieces of his fake ID into the air. Growling, Puck released her.

"Not cool Berry."

She just smiled in the sight of her victory and fixed up her robe. Awkwardness creeping on, they stood a few good feet away from each other, Rachel blushing and Puck mentally kicking himself into _not stare at her rack_. She started fretting. It was obvious she'd start lecturing on how unfortunate that incident was and how they should never ever talk about it ever again.

"I should get going," he said after the silence had started to drill holes into his ears. "See ya later."

Rachel just nodded, her arms folded over her chest. When se heard the front door closing, she felt herself faint.

_Noah Puckerman saw my breast!_

* * *

**Have a lovely Christmas! and please review!**


	3. His reasons behind it

**Hey, everybody! I'm sorry it took so long, but my computer pretty much set on fire last week (it smoked and all), but I'm back, and hopefully you'll like the chapter. You might thing Im kinda rushing it, but trust me I have a game plan I intend to follow.**

**Thank you all for the amazing reviews and the alerts! they made me really happy.**

**Oh, on the song part, whenever you see lines in parenthesis, those are the back vocals. The rest goes down easy..**

**And I still don't own Glee, can you believe it?**

Chapter three: His reasons behind it.

His mother had elbowed him three times and smacked him on the head another two by the time the Shabbat afternoon service ended, drawing the looks of the people sitting around them and of one very aggravated Rabbi. He had to mouth sorry several times too and refrained from torturing his sister every time she rolled her eyes at him. He endured it all, because he knew (and felt something similar to pride sting around the general area of his upper chest) that he was the reason why Rachel Berry, sitting between her two dads one row behind him and five seats to the right, had been blushing furiously the minute she'd walked in the synagogue to be welcomed by Puck's sly smirk, which he would continue to shot her every time he turned his head around to glance at her, hence exposing the back of his head to his mother to slap.

There was only one Temple in Lima, considering the Jewish community was rather small on the town. Puck wasn't one to attend every week and, frankly, neither was his mother. But unlike her, he never felt guilty about coming up with elaborate excuses to skip service or working on Shabbat or napping when he was supposed to be meditating, or at least he never did until his mother used her super human skills to _make_ him feel guilty, just like she had done the day before over the phone when he was driving to work (ironically, she had been working a double shift at the moment) or that morning when she woke him up way earlier than he'd planned to drag himself out of his bed and nagged him endlessly into helping around the house. She had smacked him in the head also when he'd pointed out how they should be enjoying themselves in leisure activities rather than cleaning and that God wanted them to nap all day long. He had planned to go to Berry's and give Quinn some more money a while before it was time to go to Temple and pretend it had taken him a lot longer than he'd anticipated so that it was absolutely impossible for him to be there on time (which was absolute bullshit, he'd leave with ample time, drive around till it was safe to go home and found his mother and sister gone, go up and take his nap). But Berry's boob popping out in front of him had changed his plans and Puck just couldn't let the opportunity to embarrass her further pass him by. So he went home and was ready on time to ride with his family to Temple, which infinitely pleased him mother. Score!

"'Sup Berry," he grinned in her ear after service ended and everybody was greeting each other. He tried not to smirk when she flinched and covered her chest her hands. _Tried_, as in he couldn't stop the chuckles though.

"Stop that!" she hushed angrily. "Your behavior is highly reproachable, Noah, I hope you know that."

"I'm not doing anything," he said innocently with his palms up. Rachel just gave him a _stop bullshitting me and picturing me naked_ look. Actually, it was more a _stop behaving inappropriately around me and erase the sight of my bare breast off your memory_ look. He didn't think she could swear with her looks and still rock her Jan Brady style. "All I did was acknowledge your presence during service. Plus," he said taking one step closer and rounding her small frame with his arm. "I'm at Temple. I'm full on nice Jew mode."

She bit her lip. Seriously? She was buying that? Puck couldn't believe it! He must be a better liar that he thought!

"I suppose I am being a little unfair," she breathed out. "While I do feel uncomfortable about what took place earlier between the two of us, I admit it was an accident and I don't blame you for staring," Rachel glanced away, avoiding his eyes at all costs, looking significantly appalled. "You are a guy, after all."

_Damn right I am! I'm a _stud_._

But he didn't say the words, for once not caring his amusement would go to waste. "I got you a Hanukkah present," Puck mentioned, slightly distancing from her and shoving a small square box with a ribbon and a golden star stuck on the lid and handed it to her, making sure her dads and his ma –who were chatting with a group of adults- didn't see them.

Rachel's arched brows shot up so high she looked like a cartoon. He half expected her jaw to drop to the floor and her tongue to unroll five feet in front of her.

Her looked had softened, and Puck felt he should at least put a mile of distance between them because that look was dangerously close to the one she got when she stared at Finn longingly and thought no one noticed (come on, every-fucking-body noticed. It wasn't just him!). Rachel finally took the present and opened it carefully with a shy smile curving her lips, which disappeared like a second later and was replaced by a tight purse as the fury rolled back in the moment she removed the thin paper covering the content of the box: neatly folded white grandma panties she had no problem recognizing. Rachel punched him on the ribs when he started chuckling.

"Why must you humiliate me?"

"I mustn't," he mocked, daring her to point out how the phrasing was grammatically incorrect. "I choose to."

"How did you get these?" she whispered hysterically. "I thought Sylvester confiscated them from Jacob! And how long have had them?"

Puck knew it was time to stop her ranting when she implied he was as psycho as Jewfro was. "I heard him talking with two dudes on the bathroom last week going on about how he sneaked in Sylvester's office and got them back."

"Oh, God," she covered her mouth like she was about to barf.

The little wise voice in his head that usually nagged him about feeling bad about stuff he shouldn't give a shit about, quickly rang danger bells and compelled him to hold her, tell her it was all going to be Okay and beat the life out of Jewfro (not because she meant anything to him. She was a girl, and girls were soft and weak and girly, and he was a stud! Either way, he hardly ever paid attention to the little wise voice). "So, anyway, I broke in his house and stole them back for you," Puck intentionally forgot to mention the creep had a freaking sanctuary devoted to her in his closet: she didn't need to know he had a collection of her discarded tissues and pink fluffy pens with her name and trademark golden star of them.

She looked up at him, and it felt like that one time he'd walked on his sister's bedroom without knocking to find her crying over a picture of their stupid dad (his sister might be nine years old and a girl, but she was a _badass_ too, and she like, never _cried_). "I feel so violated," Rachel elaborated clutching on to the small square box.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," Puck said, his arm back around her shoulder (he did not jolted in delight at the contact! She just happened to tickle him unintentionally) , turned her to the opposite direction and motioning to the end of the room where Jacob Ben-Israel was standing with his father, squirming, crossing and uncrossing his legs, anything but rubbing his genital area against the wall behind him. "I replaced your panties with identical ones and I sprayed super powerful itching powder on them."

Rachel stared in awe as her stalker fidgeted visibly in pain and smiled. "That is beyond doubt the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me," she beamed up at Puck and hugged him.

And Puck suddenly felt he was Noah, the one who'd serenade her in front of everybody, chose Glee over football for her, noticed stuff like about her like what was her favorite slushie flavor, how she pouted when she was concentrated and how her eyes softened when she'd stare at Finn and thought no one noticed.

"Whatever," he shrugged and walked away, panic increasing.

Five minutes later he sat uncomfortably on the passenger's seat of his ma's car staring in front of him absent mindedly. Why had he even gone through so much trouble to her panties back for her? Sure, Jewfro was a creep, and Puck had been pissed enough to beat him up when he'd eavesdropped on the bathroom and heard him trash-talking Rachel like she was his bitch when she had been nothing but cool to him and Quinn, so why didn't he beat the daylights out of him and leave it at that? He didn't _have to_go through all the trouble of finding out exactly what her panties were like (which in all fairness wasn't really hard, since Jewfro described them in detail to those two dudes), then buying the exact same ones, put them on to his neighbors dog (he'd left that part out of the recap on purpose too) risking some serious anaphylactic shock doing so, then spraying the itching powder, camping around Jewfro's house until he was sure it was safe to break in and finally retrieving the granny panties. He didn't have to do all that, except he'd desperately _wanted _to, and that run more down the lines of personal vendetta than he was comfortable admitting to himself. The result of the whole scheme was totally badass –he had broken God knows how many Ohio State laws, including the whole deal with the dog and managed to get away with it just smoothly.

But his reasons behind it? That was a moot point.

* * *

Rachel had developed the habit of calling Puck quite often, sometimes up to five times a day. Sadly, she was about the only person who called or texted him since Babygate –with the sole exception of his mother, and her calls were practically nonexistent since she suffered from a strange disease which prevented her from using a cell phone correctly- so when his badass ringtone (lie) started playing on Sunday morning, way before his usual wake-up time (read: noon), Puck had no problem guessing just who was on the other end of the line, probably anxiously fidgeting, wondering why wasn't he answering at that god-awful hour. Because while Puck was sure it was Rachel the one calling, and that she was only waking him up so early because Quinn probably needed something from him and that it was his responsibility to pick up the phone, get up and go get whatever it was she needed, it still felt like hell on earth to have to do all of it. He had worked late the night before, and had only made it home around four in the morning, only to find that the wise little voice of his conscience had decided to bother him in advance mostly so at night, as if he hadn't spent most of the day before thinking about that annoying Jan Brady wannabe and why was it that she spent so much time clouding his mind.

He growled into his pillow and sat up, rubbing his eyes before focusing his sight on the loud piece of shit that kept on making noise over his nightstand.

"What do you want, Berry?" he mumbled sleepily, resting his head back on the pillow with the phone attached to his left ear.

"Hello, Noah! Good morning," she said cheerily. "Quinn and I were wondering if you could meet us at The Juv in about half an hour?"

"Do I have a choice?"

She thought about that for a second. "Well, we wouldn't want you to think we're abusing of your good disposition or that we take for granted that you will show up every time we feel like it, but we would be really thankful if you could join us," she said carefully.

"To do what?" he whined. It was cold outside, and his feet would freeze the moment he stepped out of the front door because he had lousy circulation. He'd much rather stay in his warm bed all day (not to mention Puck didn't think he was ready to come face to face with the live version of her after all the pondering he'd gone through the day before).

"To hang out," she said evasively. He snorted; she was a terrible liar.

"Spit it out, Berry."

"I'll tell you if you come to The Juv in half an hour," Rachel promised.

He sighed. He was going to have to take a power nap later. "Fine," he grunted. "I'll be there."

"Perfect," Puck could swear he heard her clap. "We'll be waiting for you. Bye, Noah!"

He growled something in response and shut his eyes. When did he become the guy who would sacrifice an entire morning of sleep to go and hang up with two chicks he had no intention in getting into their pants? Okay, so maybe that wasn't entirely true, but it was too early and he was too tired to start pondering the depths of his soul over that… _thing_ he'd developed lately (the little wise voice in his head chose to call it a crush, but he strongly objected to that term).

Puck looked at the hour on his cell phone and swore loudly. It was nine fucking AM, and he was going to kill Berry unless she came out with a colorful excuse as to why he had to meet them so god damn early.

* * *

He might just have to kill her either way, colorful excuse or not, because Rachel Berry had managed to single-handedly screw up his entire holiday break.

He'd been slightly confused when he walked in The Juv fifteen minutes ago, seeing Rachel sitting at the head of one of the three tables that had been put together with Quinn on her left, both sipping on huge mugs. He became less confused and more irritated when he mentally counted the amount of seats and realized they fitted the entire Glee Club and Mr. Shuester perfectly, but he could still be wrong, so he sat down opposite to Quinn in Rachel's right and, silently, listened to them. He was lucky his Mowhack needed next to no styling to be cool, because Puck was sure that by the time they'd finished laying what they intended to do in the upcoming days in front of him he had run his hands through it in frustration at least half a dozen times.

Then the rest of the Gleeks arrived, one after the other, displaying diverse sleepy expressions and a visible amount of annoyance. Puck swore under his breath and chose to ignore the decidedly rude sneers Matt, Mike and Santana threw in his direction –not to mention Finn's pretending there was nothing but thin air on both side of Rachel- and acknowledged the very curt -and shy, in Tina's case- nods he got from the original members of Glee Club. The only one who seemed genuinely happy to see Puck there was Artie, but they were cool for reasons that he didn't deign to think over at the moment. Awkward silence settled for a moment right before Mr. Shue spotted them and reached the table.

"Morning guys," he greeted them cheerily. Puck frowned. It was cold outside –his feet had frozen instantly, by the way-, it was a Sunday and it was freaking too early to be up, how on fucking earth did the dude managed to be so excited.

"Fellow Glee Clubbers, I have a treat for all of you," Rachel said with her high pitched voice. Puck tried not to wince in advance for what was about to come. "As you all know, Glee's success is high up on my priority list and I feel it my duty to jump head first on every opportunity I see upon ourselves that can help us blossom professionally."

"Cut the speech short, diva," Kurt cut in rudely.

"She nailed us the Christmas Eve festival," Puck blurted out angrily. Rachel might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but she'd helped him and Quinn enough to deserve his everlasting gratitude. Plus, he'd seen her bare boob and it was _fine_ (he did _not_ have a crush on Rachel Berry).

When her face turned swiftly to stare at him in awe, he just gave her his I got your back look and she blushed. Was she thinking about the boob incident too?

"Rachel that's great!" Mr. Shue complimented her among the cascade of gasps and OMG that run through the three tables. "How did you do that?"

"Well, I couldn't have done it without Quinn," she assured them all and kicked Quinn under the table to get her head to snap up. "Right?"

"Right," she nodded.

"All it took was enthusiasm and determination," Rachel went on. For the look she was sending to each and every one of the Gleeks, she might as well just added _which you all evidently lack of_. "We approached the Mayor yesterday at my daddy's company Christmas party and we simply mentioned how we'd just won Sectionals. He recognized us from the mattress commercial," she said smugly. That was an impressive feat after all. "And we hinted that, while the Christmas festival was always very charming and wonderfully put together, a Christmas musical number might be just what they needed to cheer things up a little bit more."

"Aren't we going to get in trouble like the last time?" Santana asked from the other end of the table.

"I told the Mayor it's against the rules for us to receive any for of payment for our performance, and he was even more thrilled," Rachel grinned. "Christmas Eve is next Thursday, and we have to submit our set list for approval to the Mayor's office by tomorrow morning, so I suggest we start working right away--"

"I want to open with Ave Maria!" Kurt suggested over excitedly.

"Mariah's Joy to World--"

"Jingle Bell Rock!"

"Who's Ave Maria?"

The Gleeks launched together to the planning of the festival, excitedly contributing. Rachel smiled happily, feeling a heavy load being removed from her shoulders.

"Wait," called a small, yet surprisingly strong toned voice. Everybody turned to Quinn and tried not to gape: it was the first time she spoke out loud within the group and intentionally draw attention to herself since Babygate. "We have to do at least one Hanukkah song," she said evenly. Puck felt her feet twitch under the table.

"That's not necessary, Quinn," Rachel told her. "The whole point of the festival is to celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah ended yesterday."

"Plus, there's the whole un-commercialization of Hanukkah and Jew pride thing going on," Puck added. "My Ma is gonna be pissed when she finds out I'm singing about Jesus."

"A stage is just a stage, Noah," Rachel reminded him dead serious.

"Anyhow," Quinn cut in before Puck had the chance to say anything more. "I just think it'd be fair."

"I agree with Quinn," Mr. Shue nodded toward her (and Quinn's head snapped back so swiftly Puck _almost_ heard her neck crack). "It's up to you though," he added looking at both Puck and Rachel. "It's your call."

"I do happen to love _Dreydl, dreydl, dreydl_," she mentioned. "And my Yiddish it's spot on."

"We can't do that song," Puck shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Because it's in Yiddish," he pointed out the obvious. "They're gonna bore dead on us."

She pursed her lips and frowned, big wheels rolling inside her head trying to come up with an alternative. On the other side of the table, someone was up to the same endeavor, and managed to beat her at it.

"What's that song your mom was always singing?" Mike blurted out looking directly at Puck. "The one with all the famous Jews."

His surprise was such, Puck was _this _close to smile like a girl out of the joy of having one of his friends talking to him again, if only briefly. He managed to suppress his first giggling impulse though (he was a stud for fuck's sake!), but his voice came out a little shaky when he finally spoke. "Put on your yalmulka, here comes Hanukkah; it's so much fun-akkah to celebrate Hanukkah?" he half sang.

"Yeah," Mike said, and then he seemed to realize he'd just broken the silent treatment. Poor bastard. Finn was glaring at him hard.

"I don't know that song," Rachel admitted, her eyes wide in horror. She'd never thought the day would come when she ignored the existence of a song altogether; she was _so_ embarrassed.

"It's Adam Sandler's," Puck informed her. "It's one of the many unorthodox religious traditions my family has."

"It's really funny," Artie jumped in. "Maybe we could do a massive mash-up with traditional carols, popular interpretations and those two Hanukkah songs."

There were nods and rounds of approval through the table. "But we have to open with Ave Maria!" Kurt reminded them.

* * *

Rachel's dad and daddy had made a non refundable reservation to stay at an inn in Vermont long before Quinn went to live to their household and while Quinn had been invited to join them from day one, Rachel had had her sight set on the festival for quite as long and a few days in Vermont weren't drifting her away. So as soon as the Mayor confirmed them at her daddy's company party, her dads knew she wasn't going with, which wasn't at all that weird. They did travel a lot, and Rachel was more of the stay at home and sing you into a lawsuit kind of girl.

So she had her house completely at her disposal, which meant Glee had a secure place they could get together to rehearse, which they did every day until the day of the festival. It took them all Sunday to put together the mash up and run an estimate of how much it would cost the costumes and the stage plan, which in turn Rachel took care of deliver it personally to the Mayor's office on Monday.

Brittany, Santana, Matt and Mike took care of the choreography, the lyrics and the assignment of the parts where Tina, Finn and Mercedes job. Mercedes actually divided her time between that and coming up with the costumes along side with Quinn and Kurt, who in turn had taken Rachel's second as assistant to the general director (Mr. Shue had refused to let go of his lead on Glee even though they were technically on a break from any kind of school activity). With the boys help they moved all the furniture of her living room so that they had a wide enough space to practice the choreography and they would run through the words over and over all day long, only stopping for costume fittings, bathroom break and pizza time. They all worked hard and while Rachel was convinced that they did it because they were grateful for the opportunity and they wanted to be their best, Puck knew it was only because they would be performing for a wider crowd than they were used to and slushie facials in the middle of the winter weren't nice at all.

Puck had thought at first that the pressure of getting the number done right so quickly would without doubt keep the little wise voice of conscience quiet and his mind busy elsewhere than in the general form of Rachel, but he soon found out he was sadly mistaken. He caught himself staring at her too often, especially when she was staring at Finn and when they would mash their voices in one uniquely wonderful duet, missing his queues (and getting Rachel, _of all people_, to call it on him) and flinching longingly every time the choreography demanded they touch. He didn't think no one had noticed (they hardly paid any attention to him most of the time) and if they had, they decided –wisely- to keep it to themselves. Last thing Puck needed was a Berryvention.

He just couldn't believe it. If he was going to develop feelings (eww) for a broad, shouldn't said broad be the one carrying his baby? Surely, there had to be some sort of rule against pining over your baby mama's new found best friend material, who so happens to be the craziest batshit the entire state of Ohio had ever had the pleasure of counting among it population, who was also head over heels for your former best friend, who isn't talking to you because your baby mama happened to be his girlfriend at the time you knocked her up. Did God really hate him that much?

And to top it all, Puck just _had _to put up with all the shit Finn, Matt and Mike were willing to throw at him, and frankly he was running out of ice packs and he didn't know just how much his face could be punched before permanent damage became a serious issue. At least they lay it off during the days before the festival and decided to cut it short to glares and the occasional shoulder push (they still found it amusing, even though he didn't correspond as Puck sure they wanted him to) and Puck attributed solely to the fact that they didn't really wanted Glee's performance to suffer because the three of them got the kicks of sucker punch him.

On the day of the festival they decided to arrive earlier to warm up their cords and get acquainted to the stage. Their presentation came right after the living crib and by that time a lot of people had gathered round the stage to see what was next, not as many as their audience at Sectionals or Invitationals even, but these people they saw everyday and they went to school with their offspring… it just didn't feel like they could just sweep the crowd off their collective feet.

They were received with mild applause, the ones of their respective parents and the few fans (read: Jacob) they had clearly standing out amongst them. Then the lights went out, and Kurt stood illuminated in the middle of the dark stage.

Ave Maria

Gratia plena.  
Maria, gratia plena (aahh)

Ave, ave dominus,  
Dominus tecum.  
Benedicta tu in mulieribus

**So**, came Mercedes strong voice out of nowhere, right before the lights focused on her as she joined Kurt in the middle of the stage, the back vocals humming softly.

**This is Christmas **(It's Christmas)**  
And what have you done** (what have you?)**  
Another year over **(over)**  
And a new one just begun **(ooo)**  
And so this is Christmas** (Christmas)**  
I hope you have fun **(hope)**  
The near and the dear one **(oh, dear)**  
****The old and the young **(I don't wanna fight tonight)

Then all the lights flared and Artie started roughly playing on his guitar and the drums pounded in accord, as all the Gleeks –minus Artie- gathered together in the middle of the stage and sang in one multifaceted voice.

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock  
Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring  
Snowing and blowing up bushels of fun  
Now the jingle hop has begun

The girls gently brushed past the boys and stood on the step above, singing on the next part.

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock  
Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time  
Dancing and prancing in Jingle Bell Square  
In the frosty air.

Then the boys swept the girls off her feet and into their arms and landed them in front of them where the swung them while singing to them.

I don't care about presents  
Underneath the Christmas tree  
I just want you for my own  
**More than you could ever know**, Finn sang the last part louder into Rachel's ear as they parted a little from the group and closer to the edge of the stage.

_Make my wish come true_, she responded in kind.  
**All I want for Christmas is you.**

Lights went off again focusing on Rachel just as Artie's electric guitar stopped and Puck's lower paced notes started playing.

_Ikh bin a kleyner dreydl, gemakht bin ikh fun blay_

_Kumt lomir aleh shpiln, in dreydl eyns tsvey dray  
Oy, dreydl, dreydl, dreydl, Oy, drey zikh, dreydl, drey  
_

(And Saints and angels sing!)

Rachel sang wholeheartedly walking around Puck.

_To lomir aleh shpiln, in dreydl eyns un tsvey._

(Hanukkah is the festival of lights,  
Instead of one day of presents, we have eight crazy nights!)

And then Puck and Rachel's voices mashed together.

_**Un ikh hob lib tsu tantsn, zikh dreyen in a rod**_

_**To lomir ale tantsn, a dreydl-karahod  
Oy, dreydl, dreydl, dreydl, oy, drey zikh, dreydl, drey**__  
To lomir ale shpiln, in dreydl eyns un __**tsvey!**_

Everybody, including Artie, being wheeled by Tina, got together in the middle of the stage, holding hands and swinging from one side to the other.

A very Merry Xmas  
And a happy New Year  
Let's hope it's a good one  
Without any fear (That's the jingle bell rock!)

Needless to say they totally rocked the house, standing ovation and all, which made them all happy and touchy and there were hugs and jumping and friendly kisses backstage (with the sole exception of San and Brittany's, whose Puck knew _for sure_ wasn't a friendly kiss) and it was just like when they'd won Sectionals: the drama, the angst and the unfriendliness that so often clouded Glee Club was at hold and for those few, precious moments, it was all good.

And then, slowly but surely, it dawned on them. Rachel and Finn were still the leads and got the most solos. Quinn was still pregnant with Puck's baby and they had betrayed Finn. Rachel still loved Finn. Tina had lied to everybody, and Artie wasn't talking to her. Puck still had no friends, and his baby was still up to be given away. Quinn's parents weren't talking to her (they had even gotten up and left the minute they saw their very pregnant daughter in the stage that night). And when they got off the stage, they were still not all friends, Finn, Matt and Mike beat up Puck a little when no one was looking so he would remember them on Christmas day, Tina stared longingly at Artie as he wheeled away with his parents, Mercedes and Kurt brushed past Rachel without returning her effusive compliments, Santana dragged Brittany away when she waved at Quinn, and Rachel and Quinn drove home alone, to be welcomed by more aloneness, with plenty of time to ponder over their respective absent sets of parents.

* * *

Puck's family had never celebrated Christmas, being Jew and all, and he was totally fine with it, didn't object on it or anything, but hell, things had gone way down weird lane lately, so when his mother had told him that fateful day after Temple (fateful, because that's when Puck just _knew _why he'd rescued Rachel's panties from Jewfro) that Rachel's dads weren't going to be at home for Christmas and that she had extended an olive branch and invited Quinn and Rachel to have a nice, homemade Christmas dinner, in hopes of assuring the mother of her unborn granddaughter that she could count fully on the never dying (and sometimes, everlastingly annoying) support of Sarah Puckerman. Who also, as it happens, couldn't even manage her way to fix herself a bowl of cereal, less alone come out with a homemade dinner.

So there was Puck, bright and early on Friday morning, proudly bouncing around the kitchen wearing his badass black apron with flames at the centre rounding the words "Mr. Badass is COOKING" (his personal favorite, by the way, and a gift from his grandpa) sautéing onions, mushrooms and broth, peeling potatoes, chopping on bread, seasoning the turkey, sticking a thermometer on said turkey, preparing chocolate fudge, checking the oven temperature, stirring the cranberry sauce, struggling with the Brussels sprout (he hated the thing, but oddly, his mother didn't and his sister had a freakish thing for all food that was green), chilled the gingerbread dough on the other side of the closed window (as opposed as to doing it on the fridge: it was one of the tricks his grandpa had taught him to stick to), watching it closely so that the neighbor's dog wouldn't show up out of nowhere and eat it.

"God, could you be anymore gay right now?" his sister Rebbecca sneered from the kitchen door, leaning casually against the door frame, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle, arms crossed, lips pursed and left eyebrow up. Puck didn't have to wonder where she'd picked up the attitude.

"Don't make me poison your food," he threatened and swung the wooden spoon he'd been using with the cranberry sauce at her, covering her with little bluish dots. "And don't even think about using that word as an insult today," Rebbecca rolled her eyes, wiping the sauce off her cheek. "One of the girls coming over today has two dads."

"Whatever," she walked to the fridge and took out some milk. "So, which one of them is your girlfriend?"

Puck breathed in sharply. Of course his sister was going to ask that. He should be thankful she hadn't popped the question in the middle of dinner. "Neither. I don't even like them most of the time," he lied. Partially.

Rebbecca narrowed her eyes, greenish brown, just like her brother's. "But you did like one of them sometime didn't you?" a beat. "Isn't she having your baby?"

_Of course she's talking about Quinn! You dumbass! You__'re fretting like a pansy over nothing!_

"Kinda--" That really wasn't a conversation he wanted to have with his nine year old sister over dinner preparations. "It's a little more complicated than that."

"Mom explained it to me," she went on smugly. "She says sometimes kids think their grown ups so they make decisions and mistakes they shouldn't even be thinking about cus they're still immature, and that's when things get screwed up."

"Whatever," Puck growled. He actually thought that elaborate explanation was much better for the innocent (?) ears of his little sister, as opposed to the whole ´I got drunk on a party and I knocked up my best friend's girlfriend' speech he'd treated his mother with a few weeks ago.

"So you don't like this Quinn girl," Rebbecca said pouring herself a glass of milk staring pointedly at Puck's back while he checked the oven. "What about the other one?"

He sighed sharply. "I have _no idea_ what you're talking about."

She snorted. "Ma told who she is! You were staring at her the other day at Temple! And we can all tell when she calls you because you programmed your phone to play a love song when she does!"

He puckered. He was _such_ a pansy! "Mind your own fucking business."

"Fine!" she slammed closed the fridge door. "But FYI, mom is popping out the baby photo albums today!"

"Get out of my kitchen!"

Understandably, Puck's mood grew only darker as the day went on. Here are the things that didn't help him: his sister, singing Sweet Caroline in her high pitched voice -she could make an angel cry- every time she so casually passed by the kitchen door; his mother fuming around him, asking things about Quinn and Rachel and what would be appropriate conversation topics over dinner and insisting she helped him get dinner ready, forcing Puck to fix everything she touched because, seriously, she was dangerous around a stove; having to run to the medicine cabinet before his throat closed completely caused by the allergic reaction he got for being exposed to the neighbor's dog when he'd chased it around the yard after the fucking beast ate the gingerbread dough; and last, but oh-so-not least, Rachel and Quinn arriving early than Puck had counted on and insisting they'd help him out. He absolutely hated Christmas.

Puck hoped by the time they had to sit and have dinner his mood had somehow magically bettered so that he could endure the horrors that would surely take place around the table by the hand of none other than his mother.

Surprisingly (not), Rachel had managed so far to keep the topic as impersonal as possible, telling Sarah and Rebbecca all there was to know about Glee Club, their competition, the possibilities that lay before them just because they were part of such a creative extracurricular activity, and really making it all about herself, since Quinn's input was limited to nodding in agreement and muttering uh-huh every now and then while solely focusing her attention on her plate and the food in it (Puck really couldn't blame her: his food was that good), and Puck himself wasn't really in the mood for talking.

Rachel also took interest on Rebecca's activities and was visibly delighted (hones or not) to hear everything the little girl had to say about her soccer team and how pissed she was that the hokey team coach wouldn't even let her do the try outs for the team.

"I didn't know there was a girl hokey team in Lima," Rachel mentioned quite impressed.

"There isn't one," Rebbecca spitted, daring Rachel to say anything about how incorrect it would be for her to join a boy's team.

"Sweetie," Sarah Puckerman cut in before her daughters temper kicked in. "No glaring over dinner."

Rachel shifted uncomfortable on her seat. Next to her Quinn smothered her chuckles.

"So, Rachel," Sarah went on naturally. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Ma--" Puck cut warningly.

"No, Mrs. Puckerman, I don't have a boyfriend," Rachel replied as calmly as possible, sensing the change on the air around her. Even Quinn stopped eating and paid more attention. "While I'm sure it would be a wonderful experience every girl my age should experience, I find that boys my age tend to--"

She swallowed nervously. All four sets of eyes were staring at her expectantly. "Let's just say I'm not the easiest person to date," she corrected with a smile.

"Oh, honey, I'm sure there's a boy out there for you," Sarah assured her, glancing at her thunderous son. "Or a girl," she quickly amended her words.

Rebbecca's eyes flew wide open, Rachel's cheeks turned a very ugly shade of red and Quinn started chocking on her water.

"No, I-- I like boys," Rachel stated. Oddly, she could recall at least half a dozen times she'd had that precise conversation with her dad and daddy. First one was right after she reached puberty (and she had crushed their hopes that day with her negative answer), and from then on they asked out of the blue just to make sure they were up to dated with their only daughter's sexual inclination.

"Oh, well, that's nice," Sarah smiled noticeably glad and she spared another meaningful glance to her son, who struggled real hard not to do anything other than scowl at her in return. "So you never had a boyfriend?"

_Why couldn't she just drop the subject?_ both Puck and Rachel asked internally.

"No, I did," and this time (God sure hated Puck), Rachel glanced at Puck. "Briefly."

He growled as both his mother and sister pierced through his skull and he sank in his chair.

"You two?" Sarah voiced. It was a belated Hanukkah miracle!

Rachel nodded.

"You're telling me," her voice rose up a notch as she stared at her son in disbelief. "that you dated a nice Jewish girl and you didn't care to let me know?" she turned to look at Rachel and her face softened. "Poor thing, why did you break up with her?" Sarah asked stressing her disappointment.

"Ma--"

"She's so nice, Noah, and pretty! Why would you do that? Why would you break her heart?"

"He was probably mean to her," Rebbecca shook her head. "Did he cheat on you?" she asked directly to Rachel.

"What--?"

"How could you do that, Noah?" Sarah kept on reproaching. "Don't you want to be loved?"

Okay, that conversation was way out of line and Puck could only take so much. He was ready to walk away when Rachel jumped off her seat.

"For your information, Noah was a wonderful boyfriend," she said with no qualms. "He was gentle and attentive, and he treated me better than anybody ever had in the short week we were together. He serenaded me, he quit football for me…"

Now she was making him sound like a pussy. His sister would _never_ let him hear the end of it. His mother on the other hand, was staring at him in awe, as if she couldn't believe her son was capable of such gentleman like behavior. Granted, Puck had never given her a clue that part of him existed, but still!

"Then, what happened?" Sarah asked softly as Quinn tugged on Rachel's skirt to take her seat back.

Rachel fidgeted on her seat, looking truly uncomfortable. Quinn's lips had tightened, and Puck braced himself for her answer, the one she'd given him weeks and weeks ago. Only this time, she didn't look quite as confident as she had the last time; maybe it was just the fact that she was being interrogated by both the mother and sister of the guy she'd dumped about why she'd dumped him, or maybe it was just really messed up having to own up to her reasons while sitting next to the former girlfriend of the guy she still had feeling for.

"She was into someone else," Puck said simply, promptly coming to her rescue. "We're cool now," he nodded at Rachel and stared pointedly at his mother: the topic was off limits from now on.

"So, Puck," Quinn spoke up in a desperate effort to change the subject. "The stuffing is really good," she complimented him. "Can I get the recipe?"

"You can try," Rebbecca snorted and glared at her older brother. "Real men don't use recipes," she mock-mimicked his deep voice and Quinn and Sarah laughed, while Rachel gave a shy smile.

"Guess what?" Puck smirked. "Real men don't wash their hands either."

* * *

**So, what did you think? I'm sorry if the song part was confussing, it's harder than I thought.. Anyway, I'd love some feedback.. Oh, and I'm also sorry for any spelling mistakes that got past me (if you point them out, I'll fix them. like last chapter, I spelled bear instead of beer and one you let me know, and then it was really funny when I reread the line and I got this image of Rachel getting Puck an actual bear.. I'll shut up now).**

**Thanks for reading! and please review!!**


	4. Foolishly positive hopefulness

**THANKS FOR ALL THE AWESOME REVIEWS!**

* * *

Chapter four: Foolishly positive hopefulness

"Did I ever tell you that you drive like my ninety years old nana?"

"Yes, Quinn," Rachel gritted out as gracefully as possibly. "You do so almost every morning, often preceded by _what in the good Lord's name are you wearing?_ and _can we have ice cream for breakfast?_"

Quinn just rolled her eyes and tilted her had to the window. She shifted uncomfortably on her seat. "Can you hurry up? I need to go to the bathroom," she said impatiently, and sighed tiredly. "_Again_."

"At least you're not vomiting anymore."

"Can you for once not try to look at the bright side of things?"

"Sure," Rachel nodded. "Let's stew in our misery. It's very much charming."

Quinn breathed out sharply and turned to see her, her hands clenching over her rounded belly. "You know what? I just had about enough of your attitude. I did something _nice_ for your," she spitted. "You should appreciate it."

"You completely ignored my wishes and went on your way to do something you knew I strongly objected to," Rachel repeated calmly the response she'd given Quinn every time they had that conversation. She didn't need anyone to try and talk sense into her when she knew she was right.

And Quinn knew that was just how the conversation ended, because even though she could try to keep her talking about it (and she had in the past few days, several times), Rachel would just remain quiet, deaf to her words, ignoring completely what Quinn had to say. And she knew that once Rachel retreated to her sulking silence (which she managed to do oh-so-gracefully: you wouldn't even know she was sulking unless you were the one she was angry at) no one could yank her out of it. It was Rachel's way or no way.

"Pull over," Quinn demanded sourly.

Rachel glanced at her for a moment. "We're still a couple of blocks away--."

"I don't care," she crossed her arms over her chest. "I feel like walking."

"Fine," Rachel shrugged and stopped the car. Quinn reached for her bag in the back seat and slammed the door closed once she was on the sidewalk. "Enjoy!" Rachel waved and drove away.

Quinn closed her eyes and mentally pulled herself together. She was not going to let Man Hands get the best of her, especially when Quinn knew she was _right_, that she'd done something incredibly nice for Rachel, and that Rachel was a coward.

It started out incredibly innocently. Rachel's dads received their daughter's Christmaskkah present while they were still in Vermont and they had wanted to respond in kind (Rachel had told her that they never really exchanged presents for Hanukkah, but that she was making an exception that year because they were also sort of celebrating Christmas so that Quinn felt more at home) so they had called Quinn before they left to Lima and asked her opinion over the gifts they were considering. Quinn quickly shut down all their ideas (which were totally lame and included several DVD editions of Broadway classics) and suggested there was a trench coat in Lima Rachel had made moon eyes to on their last trip to the mall. Long story short, they got her the coat and Rachel got pissed.

Quinn sighed as she walked down the street, closer and closer to the school. It was just a coat. She knew Rachel was prone to her diva fits, but they were usually over a solo she wanted or because she didn't feel her talent was appreciated enough; she never knew she could get that upset over something so irrelevant. But she had, and she demanded that the coat was returned immediately, which her dads refused to do without a reasonable explanation (Quinn learned shortly after she went to live with them that Rachel had kept her daily slushie facials a secret and intended to stick to it). Rachel just decided she would never wear the thing and buried it in the depths of her closet, at the same time as she assured Quinn very eloquently that she didn't appreciate her hand on the matter. The incident had taken place four days ago, and frankly, Quinn was tired of trying to patch things up between them. If Rachel wanted to sulk stubbornly, then she could do just that. Quinn had better things to do than sitting around and waiting for her to admit she had overreacted. Like, for instance, return to her place at the top of McKinley High hierarchy.

First thing to do that, she needed to reconnect with her friends. Brittany and Santana may have been less than friendly lately, but she knew them from elementary school, and that counted for something. And what better way to restore their friendship than by manipulating them into it? Brittany wasn't going to be hard to convince, actually, Quinn knew Britt wasn't hanging out with her only because Santana didn't let her, so she had to aim at San if she wanted back in. And she had the perfect plan to do just that.

With Sylvester gone and Cheerleading Nationals just around the corner, Santana was up to her neck with the responsibility as the Head Cheerio, and who better to relieve the pressure from her shoulders than Quinn? She had eavesdropped on she and Brittany back when they were rehearsing the song for the festival and learned that they were having some trouble with the choreography and the members of the squad. Now, cheerleading was Quinn's life; she had been at it since she was six and she hadn't been appointed Head Cheerio on her freshman year by Sue Sylvester herself because she was blond and had remarkable bone structure. At the end of the day, San would be eternally thankful for her selfless (not) help, their friendship would renew itself and Quinn would be one step higher up the social ladder.

And it looked like they really needed her help. Without the stern grip Coach S had over them, the Cheerios were falling apart. Quinn simply couldn't believe it, twenty minutes later, as she watched their routine from the bleachers on the gym, how sloppy they'd got. Their timing was totally off, they looked like they didn't even remember the steps, and they weren't smiling all around. It was plain awful.

And Santana looked pissed. But she didn't know how to induce fear like Sylvester, so while the squad were actually listening to her bitching effusively, she was unlikely to get a positive outcome. And Quinn couldn't be happier about it.

"Hey there San," Quinn waved from her spot on the bleachers.

Santana turned her glaring eyes from her disastrous squad and focused on Quinn. "Q," she nodded curtly. Next to her Brittany waved enthusiastically.

"You guys are looking really _good_," Quinn said sweetly without making the attempt to move from her seat.

The Latina girl wrinkled her nose. _Good_ wasn't acceptable. "We're just getting warmed up," she tilted her head to the side, her hand perched on her hip.

"Oh," Quinn sighed relieved, careful not to make it look fake. The right amount of dejection was the key. "Thank goodness for that," she smiled nervously, glancing her worried hazel eyes to the dispersed squad.

Santana glanced back and frowned biting the inside of her lower lip. "Actually," she started, looking slightly uncomfortable. Brittany next to her elbowed her and bowed her head in Quinn's general direction. Santana sighed and climbed the stairs to where Quinn was sitting, followed by Brittany. "I can't control them," Santana admitted, avoiding eye contact. Failure was not something that came easy for her to admit. "They're not doing their best and I don't know how to--," she searched her vocabulary for a word that fitted her intentions the most. "_Motivate_ them."

And by _motivate_, Quinn knew from San's suggesting look, she really meant _terrify_ them.

Quinn smirked internally. "You know what Coach S always said," she mentioned sweetly. "You need to find the competitive beast within them and scare the bejesus out of them. That'll do the trick."

"She tried," Brittany informed her, patting her friend compassionately on the arm. "They listened, but it didn't look like it was working."

And Santana looked terrible. Quinn forgot for a second that she was doing all this to climb up the social ladder and instead she felt the urge to help Santana out of the abundant goodness of her heart, because they had history and even though past weeks had been edgy, she still hoped they could be friends again. She was at the bottom of the bleachers before she could realize it (or, maybe, change her mind and walk in the opposite direction), stepping on the basketball court and glaring at the Cheerios.

"Break's over. Gather round asap."

The threat wasn't in her tone. She'd said the words quite softly. It was definitely in her expression, which promised mayhem if the Cheerios didn't start moving immediately.

"Line up," Quinn commanded, refusing to narrow her eyes to early morning sun gleam that came through the high windows. She inspected their faces closely from a distance, sparing an extra second to glare at the two girls who were so adamantly wearing their hair wildly loose over their shoulders. "Are you two poor now?" she asked sweetly to the two girls in front of them, who just gaped confused. "Or maybe you fell and hit your head? Because, seriously, the only two acceptable reasons I can think of for you two _not_ wear your hair up in a ponytail are that either you can't afford a band or that you're not intelligent enough pull off the task."

"It looks real pretty," one of the girls said bravely. All she got in return was an arched brow.

"You're right," Quinn nodded. "Maybe we can shave it off and make you a nice wig you can wear on your spare time, but as long as you have that uniform on you represent this squad, and no Cheerio is going to be walking around looking like a loose harlot. Tie it up or loose it."

The girl paled. Her friend next to her was quickly braiding her own mane.

"We're having weight-ins today after lunch," Quinn informed them all as she slowly marched in front of them, stopping in front of one of the tallest girls. "Celeste, I suggest you start sweating away all the holiday weight you put up with," she said unwaveringly. "And the same goes to Brandon," the guy flushed. "And Lorie," the girl sobbed.

Quinn stopped for a second in front of Becky, who was doing her best to stand straight and confident. The girl was a part of the squad, it didn't matter that she was special. Everybody should be treated the same. "Contact glassed," okay, so maybe that came out a little more nicely (sincerely nicely) than she had addressed the rest of the group. "You think you can convince your parents? It'd be much more practical."

"Yes," Becky nodded enthusiastically.

"Good," Quinn accepted and directed to group as a whole. "To your places. We're gonna go through the routine so that those of you who don't remember all the steps –I'm talking to you specially, Claire Bear- can feel both ashamed and grateful that were going through so much trouble to correct you," the group stared at her in awe, and only then Quinn realized she really didn't have a say and that, despite the fear she knew she was making them feel, they didn't _have_ to do what she said.

"Go," Santana's voice came from Quinn's right. She'd been standing next to her all along. "I'm appointing Quinn honorary co-chair of the Cheerios. From now on you do as she says."

She was _back_.

* * *

Rachel retouched her strawberry lip gloss by her locker, staring intently to the reflection in her pocket mirror of the tall, lean guy walking in carelessly on the other side of the hallway. Determination set, she turned and smiled her mega watt smile. "Hello Finn," she walked up to meet him.

"Hi Rach," he greeted sombrely.

"How was the rest of your holiday break?"

"Okay," he shrugged. "Hung out with Mike and Matt, played Xbox."

"Sounds fun," Rachel smiled cheerily.

"Yeah--"

The silence turned awkward as they walked aimlessly down the hallway. Rachel was not known for her small talk talents. With her it was right to the point or no talk at all.

"I'm sorry if things had been weird between us lately," she blurted out, looking up at him hopefully, and instantly seeing him tense up and avoid her eyes. "I know you don't approve of what I'm doing for Quinn--."

"I'm not mad because of that," he cut her short, looking down. "You're a good person, Rachel," he pierced through her eyes. "You wouldn't be yourself if you didn't try to help out a team mate."

She nodded and sighed, relieved that her housing Quinn wasn't a problem between them. Then she frowned, picking up another meaning in his sentence. "But you _are_ mad me?" her head perked up and locked their gazes.

He frowned, and Rachel felt she wasn't talking to the old, playful Finn anymore. The guy in front of her was just so sad and tired. "No," he shook his head finally. "Not _at_ you. I'm just mad at everybody. It's nothing personal," he assured her.

She half smiled. "I have free period before Glee, do you want to get together and practice?" she suggested, batting her lashes only a little.

"Sounds great," Finn accepted, truly looking forward to it. "Do you have anything in mind?"

"Well, I had some time of my own these past few days so I've been working on a couple of songs," mostly while she was locked up in her room refusing to hang out with Quinn.

"Cool. Then I guess I'll see you later," Finn smiled down to her, and Rachel felt her heart skip at least five beats.

"Bye," she waved with a goofy smile lighting up her face, and walked away after a moment of longingly staring at his back, in the opposite direction where Puck was standing by his locker frowning darkly at their interaction.

He slammed it shut with more strength than was needed picked up his guitar case and stormed toward the choir room, cursing the little wise of his conscience that kept on saying I told you so.

Whatever, Berry could go her merry way and make moony eyes at stupid Finn, with his stupid goofy smile and his stupid leading voice and have a hundred stupid babies. Puck couldn't care less. He refused to admit he had such a girly thing as a crush. He crossed the choir room like a thunder and burst open the door of the closet they used to keep their musical instruments, only to slam it closed just as quickly and leaning on the door with a horrified look in his face as he heard hushed cursing inside the closet. _Oh, my fucking God._

He left his guitar by the piano (praying to whatever God on call at the moment that they didn't take it out on his baby) and got the hell away from the choir room before they could leave the closet and chase after him.

He was so not having _that_ conversation right now.

The mental picture permanently etched in his brain was fairly enough.

_Oh my fucking God!_

* * *

Lunch time had never been challenging for Puck. He had always had a table he belonged to, whether it was the jocks', the one with the hottest chick under his current ministrations, or, lately, the one Quinn and Rachel sat at by themselves. He was no longer welcomed by the jocks after Babygate and he wasn't sparing his goodies with any girls at the moment (not that he was particularly famous among the ladies lately), and, worst of all, Quinn was sitting with the Cheerios, San and Britt included, with Rachel shinning through her absence. Where was he going to sit?

He vaguely noticed Matt's brown eyes slicing into him like daggers. Vaguely, as in hell could freeze over before Puck laid eyes on his again so soon after what he'd witnessed that morning. He considered sitting with Artie, but he was surrounded by the other Gleeks, and Mercedes was glaring too. Oh, the horror. Puck could feel the goose flesh spreading to every inch of his hot piece of ass.

Where was Rachel (he _didn't_ miss her)? She was supposed to be attached to Quinn, violently chattering about how talented she was and how Glee wasn't doing their best and how she'd one day get to play Maria and how her Tony speech would make everybody cry--

"Hey man," a guy called from behind him. Panicky, Puck wondered just how long he'd been standing there thinking about things that made him want to light himself on fire (not). "You Okay?"

It was Tom Ritchie, the founding member of the fight club Puck was a member of and which had kept their secretive sessions on hold because half the guys got some contagious icky rash a couple of weeks ago, including Tom, much to Puck's disappointment. Babygate had somehow relived the burden of lying and deception and betrayal, with the truth now out in the open, but Puck still had to handle a good deal of stress and the fight club really could've helped him out.

"Yeah I'm--," no one had really asked him how he was doing, not at school at least. His mother had given up and taken her son's stony expression as all the answer she was ever going to get, and while Rachel had been very persistent at first (especially when he showed up at her house with Quinn's ice cream and an ice pack covering a good part of his face), but she'd also accepted (begrudgingly) that he didn't want to talk about it, so she lay off.

"Why don't you come sit with us," Tom invited, nodding to a table near the windows. "I actually got something I wanted to talk to you about."

He needn't ask twice. It was either following Tom or go eat lunch to the bathroom, and he was Noah Puckerman, he wasn't _that_ far down the McKinley High hierarchy (or maybe he was, but he wasn't willing to accept it). Anyway, Tom was cool, and Puck could use the fight club right now.

"How's your rash?" he asked.

Tom turned around and flushed a little. "Not itching anymore."

"Good, cuz last fight club was weird," Puck confessed remembering how Tom and one of the other guys (who also got infected) kept scratching each other when they were supposed to be fighting.

If it hadn't been so gross, it would have been funny. Actually, Puck was pretty sure that tormenting Tom about it would be funny as well, but he really didn't want to have to find another seat right now.

They finally reached their table and sat, Puck giving a general nod of acknowledgment to the three other people sitting at it. Two guys, also members of the fight club, Luke Something and Jake Whatsisname, and _girl_ who Puck had never before seen. _Girl_, because she was as big if not bigger (he'd have to see her standing to properly determine her size) than Puck himself, and it was all muscle, even her neck had those little bumps and a dangerously popping vein. It was so freaky.

"You know Luke and Jake," the three of them shared a manly nod. "And this is Gertie, she just transferred."

"Hi," Gertie said with a high pitched voice way off her general outline.

"So I asked you all to come over because I'm killing the fight club," Tom said. "My mom says she has cleaned one blood stain too many from our basement."

"Can't we find someplace else?" Puck suggested. "Like, I dunno, a dark alley?"

"Actually, thanks to Gertie over here," Tom went on with a silly grin on his face. Tom and Gertie? Whoa, mental picture! Puck had had enough of those already for one day. "Figgins finally agreed to letting us found a wrestling team, to compete and all."

"What has Gertie got to do with it?" Luke asked directly to Tom, in spite of the fact that she was sitting right opposite to him. What, he was afraid of her? Ha, what a pussy (but just in case, Puck wasn't talking to her too).

Gertie seemed to take offence. "My team was national champion on my other high school," she told them smugly, holding her upper arm up so that they could all admire her overdeveloped biceps.

"Figures," Jake snorted. "Figgins shut down the chess club last year because us losing wasn't good publicity for the school."

"You were on the chess club?" Puck asked absolutely astonished.

Something in his tone might have been interpreted as mocking by Jake, because the guy looked ready to reinstate the fight club right then and there. "You're a Gleek."

And Jake didn't even said it like it was an insult (and deep down Puck's heart, he knew it wasn't, though he would go down swinging if anybody dared to imply that he might think that way), more like he was pointing out the obvious.

"Dude, didn't you see the Gleek chicks?" Puck smirked.

"You obviously did more than see," Luke whispered.

"Okay, we're not gonna go there," Tom cut in just before Puck jumped over the table and tackled Luke to the ground where he would very gladly beat him down to a pink pulp. "So, any of you guys interested?"

It was basically like a fight club, only that they wouldn't get together at Tom's slumber basement and Puck could really learn a few cool tricks. The only problem was that he didn't think he could put up with so many extracurricular activities (when did he became the guy who spent almost every minute of his spare time involved in school?); between school, Glee, basketball and Quinn duty he hardly had anytime for himself. If was going to join the newly founded wrestling team then he would have to sacrifice at least two afternoons of the school week, and since there were only five days out of which four of them were already taken by Glee and basketball, Puck really didn't see how he was going to pull it off.

On the bright side, he really needed to punch someone. He had taken every beat up coming his way and didn't respond not one of the punches because he knew he had no right to and that he deserved Finn and the others relieving their anger on him, but that didn't mean he didn't have the need to expel his own anger out. Plus, when he wasn't at practice or Glee rehearsal and was feeling bored, he spent too much time at Rachel's. Maybe that's why the little voice of his conscience was getting so annoying and had started making him think stupid things. Maybe it was time Puck got a distraction that didn't involve hanging around people who constantly reminded him, intentionally or not, what a screw up he was. Besides, it's not like he was scarifying work time.

"My dad's gonna coach the team, so if you want in, just be at the gym today after class."

"I have Glee Club today," Puck informed, hiding the dejection.

"Yeah, well, we actually have to wait until the gym team vacates the gym, so practice will probably start like really late," Tom nodded sheepishly. "My dad and Figgins are gonna have to sit together anytime soon to come around with a better schedule, but, for now--."

He let the sentence die, feeling insecure as to how excited the others were.

"I'm in, as long as it doesn't interfere with Glee or basketball," Puck shrugged. "And--," it was so awkward telling them that (really, it was awkward talking to almost everybody about it). "Quinn and I have all these doctor's appointments, so if that's gonna be problem…" he let the sentence die. The three guys knew he was very fond of his nunchucks.

"That's cool man," Tom assured him and glanced suggestively at the other who voiced their agreement as well.

Minor Luke's aforementioned comment, Puck had to admit it was all going very smoothly, sitting with guys and a _girl_, talking guy stuff, not anticipating any beat up from any of them and not having to run to nearest 7eleven to get anybody ice cream. It was the coolest lunch he'd had in weeks. Plus, he'd get to punch someone today after school.

"So," next to him, Gertie was trying to get her attention. She was batting her eyelashes weirdly, it looked like she was having a seizure. "What's Glee Club?"

Puck prayed it was seizure.

* * *

It had been a great day for Quinn. She was back with the Cheerios –sort of- Santana and Brittany were talking to her again, even if it was only about cheerleading stuff, which Quinn was happy about. It was a first, and it had kept them busy enough all day, which the three of them spent together, just like the old glory days. If it hadn't been for the fact that she had to run to the toilet every now and then or that the baby was being particularly kicky that day, Quinn could actually feel for a few moments that things were going to be right again.

So in this state of foolishly positive hopefulness, she crossed the library when it was time to go to Glee rehearsal. She had last period free, and she would usually hang with Rachel, either practicing or doing homework. Since things weren't exactly Okay between them that day, Quinn knew Rachel would be at the choir room, so she gladly took refuge at the library. It was usually quiet and no one would bother her (most part of the student body didn't even know there was a library), but that day was different. Gathered around the computer section, the hockey team was laughing loudly and pointing at something in one of the screens. Quinn was unimpressed. Probably they were just watching some lame video on YouTube about a guy making out with his dog.

She was almost at the door when her singularly proficient hearing skills (which had developed since elementary when she and her friends discovered gossiping was a very rewarding activity) caught something from what they were saying, which made her stop, turn, and glare.

"Berry's gonna totally flip!" one of them said and high fived with another.

For the second time in that day, Quinn felt the urge to protect a friend, which had been totally understandable the first time, since it was Santana and she had been her friend for many years, but not so much with Rachel, or at least she didn't realize it just yet.

She broke past them and stared down to the screen where an animated caricature of a disproportionated girl with Rachel's face was swinging awkwardly from one side to the other, the letter L in bright red tattooed on her forehead and the words loser flying around her. It was so horrible and humiliating Quinn was lost for words and simply could not stop staring at the screen. When she decided it couldn't get any meaner, several cups appeared on the picture and doused their colourful content over Rachel's caricature.

"Hey there Milf," Karofsky voice brought her back from her shock. "Like what you're seeing?"

"You're sick," Quinn spitted, barely noticing the guys were closing around her in a circle.

"I think it's funny," the hockey player shrugged, deaf to Quinn's insult. "I'm pretty sure the whole school is gonna think it's funny too," he smirked evilly.

"What?"

"What your heard, Mary Magdalene," he sneered, crossing his arms over his wide chest and taking one step closer to her, clearly trying to intimidate. Sadly for him, Quinn Fabray didn't get scared that easily. "This video is gonna be up in every blog by tomorrow and your little BF is finally gonna be a star."

The last comment was received with cheers and loud roars. Karofsky, the bastard, looked so smug Quinn was tempted to kick him in the baby makers.

"That'd better not happen," she threatened softly, displaying her best ice bitch expression.

"Whatcha gonna do?" he laughed. "Cry and run for ice cream?"

Sweetly, ominously, Quinn asked "Oh, you really don't know the first thing about pregnant gals don't you?" she gave a short chuckle. "You see, it's the first few months that get us all emotional and touchy, but from the fifth month forward," she batted her eyelashes drawing circles with her hand around her large belly "we're plainly vindictive."

"I don't even know what that word means," Karofsky snorted pouring contempt.

"It means when I get pissed, you wanna be running far away from me," Quinn enlightened him, hoping the impersonation of what she thought Puck looked like when was threatening someone was spot on.

Karofsky and his buddies weren't impressed though.

"Just delete the damn thing," she ordered and turned around. She was still Quinn Fabray, she did not buckle because some Neanderthals wanted to play nasty and what is more--.

Where the hell had that slushie come from? Why didn't she see it when she walked to them to see what they were laughing about? And why did she have get a slushie facial when she had just stood up to the biggest bullies she'd ever met? Wasn't there supposed to be some sort of divine retribution? Didn't the Lord love her?

Quinn stormed out of the library in the midst of a cascade of laughter and name calling.

* * *

**Your eyes  
As we said our goodbyes  
Can't get them out of my mind  
And I find I can't hide from  
Your eyes  
The ones that took me by surprise  
The night you came into my life  
Where there's moonlight  
I see your eyes  
**  
_**How'd I let you slip away  
When I'm longing so to hold you  
Now I'd die for one more day**_  
_**'Cause there's something I should  
Have told you  
Yes there's something I should have  
Told you  
**_  
_When I looked into your eyes  
Why does distance make us wise?  
You were the song all along  
And before the song dies__**I should tell you I should tell you  
I have always loved you  
You can see it in my eyes**_

Rachel's fingers stopped moving over the keys and she smiled happily. Finn and she had hardly broke eye contact while they were singing that song, and she did realize that it must have been uncomfortable for him since she was sitting and he was standing and considering his remarkable height, but still at no point Finn tried to relive the pain his corked neck was probably suffering, which she could only see as progress. Despite all that had happened, they hadn't lost their spark, they could still sing a song together and sounding perfectly wonderful.

"That sounded really good, didn't it?" Finn high fived her.

"It really did. I'm always telling Mr. Shue that Broadway classics are classics for a reason," Rachel said fervently moving form her seat to stand closer to him. "While some might think they are only vintage glimmers of yore, I really believe it's up to us to bring them back from the glory days and retrieve them to the high place they had earned among America's music culture."

"Right," he nodded, not sure he understood all the words in the sentence but grasping on the general idea.

Defying Gravity started playing on Rachel bag and reached out for her iPhone. It was a text from Quinn.

_Got slushied. My stuff r in ur car. Can u com ovr?_

Rachel hastily texted back and looked up to meet Finn's intense gaze. She checked the time on the clock hanging form the wall; it was fifteen minutes till Glee started.

"I have to go," she said softly. "Quinn needs me."

Finn just nodded swiftly.

"Can you tell Mr. Shue that we'll be right back as soon as we can?"

"Sure," he managed to say. He'd tell Shue Rachel had to go and be back soon. If he wondered where Quinn was, well, Shue was smart enough to figure out on his own she was with Rachel.

When she walked in the girls lavatory ten minutes later with her pink trolley behind her what first got Rachel's attention was the fact that Quinn's blond hair had turned an ugly shade of pink and was leaking slushie over her also leaking green top, but the fact that she was standing close face to the wall with a disposable hanky in her hand, furiously rubbing something off the wall.

"Hey," Rachel said softly and Quinn turned around guiltily coming to stand between Rachel and the piece of wall she was cleaning off.

"Hey," she spoke awkwardly, the memory of their fight that morning (and, why not, of their week long disagreement) lingering over them. "Sorry I made you come like this… were you busy?"

Only trying to seduce your ex boyfriend. "Not at all."

She handed Quinn a towel and a spare change of clothes which she took with her to the first stall while Rachel prepared the shampoo and conditioner to wash her hair and pulled over a chair to the sink. While she was at it, she spared a glance to inspect the area of the wall by the paper towel dispenser Quinn had been rubbing when she walked in, a small smile forming in her lips. Last time she'd checked there was a nasty drawing of herself and Jacob Ben-Israel right in that spot, and now it had disappeared almost completely.

Half an hour later they walked in Glee to find that they hadn't started rehearsing yet, much to Rachel's irritation. Did they think they could just wink it at Regionals?

"Am I going to have to object to that hideous pink abomination attached to your hand?" Kurt asked in his usually lazy tone. "It's unsightly."

Quinn just rolled her eyes and moved to seat next to Puck in the corner.

Rachel stood her ground. "It's very practical. It fits a spare change for me and Quinn and all the essentials to clean off after a slushie douse," she explained leaving the trolley by the wall and taking her seat front and centre. Only then she noticed who was standing next to Mr. Shue by the piano, feeling her stomach sick. Hank Saunders just waved and half smiled at her.

"Why don't you keep it all in your locker like the rest of us?" Mercedes asked ready to side with Kurt.

Rachel forgot momentarily about the mysterious presence of Hank and his equally mysterious reasons. With a touch of humor on her voice, she turned to look at Puck, who was frowning deeply. "Why don't I keep all my things in my locker, Noah?"

It was a rhetorical question, of course. He smirked, remembering like it was yesterday. "I filled her locker with grape juice and let it stew for a whole weekend back in junior high," he said shamelessly.

"How?"

"With a hose," he unwillingly glanced at Mike. "And Mike's sister's Play Do."

"That sounds disturbingly creative," Kurt observed. "And icky."

"It was," Rachel stated.

Mr. Shue cleared his throat in an attempt to gain his student's attention once again. "As interesting as that sounds," he frowned at Puck and was met by an unrepentant smirk. "Hank was going to tell us something."

Rachel's back stiffened even more so and paid attention carefully to what he had to say (Puck tried not to appreciate how nice the curve of her back was). She and Hank didn't really had that much history, but Rachel had been the one to tell Figgins Sandy had acted inappropriately around Hank, hence rising an scandal of which Hank was inevitably the center of it. Whether it was true or Rachel had just been lying to get back at him for getting her solo, rumor had it Hank had been somewhat molested by Sandy and didn't report it. That was hardly the kind of attention a senior wanted to attract.

"So, as you may or may not know, I'm in the drama club and we are producing Jesus Christ Superstar on the second Saturday from today and there's a lot of singing," he started, like he was breaking awful news to them. For a member of the drama club and an actor in formation, he sure lacked stage manners. If her wanted to impress them with his confidence he should have at least taken his hands off his pockets, stop bowing his head down and bring his tone up a notch.

Plus, was he really under the misconception that they, a Glee club, weren't aware that that particular play concerned a good deal of singing? Rachel knew all of the songs, and it wasn't even among her top twenty musicals ranking list.

"We're doing all the acting, of course," he went on. "But we thought you might want to participate too. With the song parts," he clarified.

"You want to borrow our extraordinary talented voices so you can mock sing over them and won't kill the play?" Kurt asked offended.

"Yeah…" Hank confirmed carefully.

"That's blasphemy, mister," Kurt voiced offended.

"Mr. Shuester," Rachel stood up ready to declare what she was sure was the group's general opinion. "I don't think this a good idea. Regionals are due on ten short weeks and wasting our time it's not an option. We worked really hard for Sectionals," there was a general murmur of agreement. Mercedes was nodding to her every word. "And we rushed our presentation. We won, but not because we were the best. If the other two teams hadn't been either deaf or undertalented, we would have been in serious trouble. Regionals are going to be different, and it's going to take a lot from us to defeat Vocal Adrenalin."

It was true. None of them cared about a stupid drama club production. They wanted to rock it a Regionals.

"Singing is singing right?" Hank shrugged, not really getting the point. "Doesn't really matter _what_ you're singing."

Now, if there was going to be one time the entire Gleeks would take offence and were willing to collectively thrash someone, that was it. Mr. Shue sensed it (the glaring and the enraged gaping were a sure give away) and quickly jumped in the conversation to prevent violence against Hank.

"Why don't you give us some time to think about it? We'll get back at you tomorrow."

"Sure," Hank nodded and reached down to his bag pack, taking out several music sheets and handing them over to Mr. Shue. "Oh, and I just wanted to say," he added sheepishly. "You were awesome at Sectionals," his statement was received by more than one arched brow. He was the first student yet to acknowledge they'd won. "You were awesome," he repeated looking pointedly at Rachel. "That solo--, it was breathtaking."

Rachel was temped to look back to make sure he was talking to her. "Why, thank you Hank. That's very gracious of you."

"My sister's totally obsessed with the song," he went on, taking one step closer, holding on to one music sheet. "She listens to your version on YouTube everyday."

"Hold on," Mercedes barked. "She's on YouTube?"

"You all are," Hank informed them like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Thought you knew."

Saying they were shocked was an understatement. They were so running together to the computer lab to check that out after Glee.

"Anyway," Hank spoke again, much more confident this time. Rachel was a little startled to see he was standing one foot away from her, staring at her attentively. He handed her the music sheet. "My number's on the back," he grinned. "Give me a call if you want to catch a movie or something."

Rachel welcomed the invitation with a silly smile. The general gasp of astonishment, she didn't receive so well.

"Is it so hard to believe there's a boy who finds my talent charming and irresistible and wants to take me out on a date?" she asked angrily.

Boy, she really had it on with the rhetorical questions today, didn't she?

Practice went smoothly after that. They had an unspoken agreement that revolved around Babygate: basically, they didn't talk about it, pretended it hadn't happened, and bottled up whatever emotion that particular event made them feel. It was a win-win for everybody (though Mr. Shuester and Rachel were probably the happiest ones about it).

"I feel like pizza today," Quinn said as she walked out of the choir room flanked by Puck and Rachel.

"We had pizza yesterday," Rachel reminded her. "You shouldn't have any flour today."

"Okay," she sighed. "But I can still have ice cream, right?" she checked alarmingly.

The other girl laughed and Quinn smiled. Nothing like rinsing a slushie off one's hair to bond over.

"This is a far as I go," Puck said when they reached the school's front doors.

"You're staying?" the girls asked at once.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm trying for the wrestling team."

"What wrestling team?"

"It was only founded today and there's like only four of us and one is a _girl_," he frowned. "But still."

"Well, I think it's wonderful that you're taking such an active interest on extracurricular activities," Rachel beamed proudly. "It's only going to look great on your university application."

Right then and there, Puck felt he was seven feet tall and his chest had just grown with satisfaction.

"Good luck then," Quinn wished him with a strange look. "Let us know how'd it go."

They left him and walked together toward the car. While they were still on his hearing range, Puck saw Quinn turning her head to look at him, then at Rachel and asked loud and clear: "So, are you calling Hank?" she glanced back to see Puck's grim reaction. "He's kinda cute."

"Kinda is not a word, Quinn," he heard Rachel correct her, but her tone was anything but annoyed or irritated. She sounded plainly cheery.

"Puckerman," he heard Matt calling behind him.

Puck winced internally and turned around. "Yeah," he said gloomily. He didn't want to have that conversation, not now, not ever. But maybe, he thought hopeful, Matt didn't want to talk. After all, Finn had found that beating him up was nicer than talking about what happened, maybe Matt was taking his example. Yes, that would be much more preferable.

Puck could take the beat up. He really could. He _wished_ there was a beat up coming. Because it was easier to just stay in place and receive the blows than hearing his friend's voice when all he had to say was just how much he despised him.

He was feeling less than a stud every day. Missing his friends was making him loose himself, or at least that version of him he was used to living.

Matt stopped in front of him, staring. "What's it gonna take for you not to say anything about me and Mercedes?" he asked curtly.

_A hug._

_Control yourself! _

Aside from his internal battle, Puck wondered what was the answer Matt expected to hear from him. Money? That Kings of Leon CD he'd borrowed once and never got around returning? No more beating?

Puck shook his head stony faced. "It's cool man, I'm keeping my mouth shut," he promised.

Taken aback by the answer, Matt frowned. "Seriously, what do you want me to do? Lay off the beat ups? Talk to Finn?"

He saw how Puck's eyes clouded momentarily, day dreaming of the chance of Matt talking to Finn and convincing him of forgiving Puck. But it wasn't going to work. "No way," he shook his head again and glanced away.

From the corner of his eyes he saw Matt shifting uncomfortably. "So you like, want me to keep doing what I've been doing?" Puck nodded. "Why?"

"Because I deserve it," Puck pointed out the obvious, and walked away. "See ya tomorrow in the dark alley."

"Wait!" Matt called. "I owe you one."

Puck glanced back keeping the smile from curving his lips. "Okay."

* * *

"I don't like this," Puck growled sourly.

"I know," Quinn flipping sighed through her music sheet. "You've been saying that for the past hour."

None of the Gleeks were happy with the situation. Mr. Shuester called an emergency meeting first thing Tuesday to inform them that despite his extended efforts, Principal Figgins insisted they participate in the drama club school production. Rachel and Kurt both had their diva fits over it, which Mr. Shue dismissed immediately before he spread the music sheets and parts. Finn was Jesus (_obviously_), Rachel was Mary Magdalene, Artie was Pontius Pilate, Kurt was Annas, Mike and Matt both performed the parts of Caiaphas, Peter Simon and King Herod, and Puck (again: _obviously_) was Judas.

The rest of the girls got the harmonies and, really everybody got to put their two cents in each song, only they'd be doing it on a dimly lit corner of the stage while the actors moved around pretending they were singing.

"Why did they pick a musical if they can't sing?" he wondered angrily. He really wasn't happy with the play or his part. Why couldn't Artie play Judas? (And if he heard one more word from Shue about voice range, he was getting violent)

"I don't know," Quinn sighed tiredly, barely paying attention to what he was saying. "Have you seen Rachel?"

It was lunch time and Rachel was again nowhere to be seen. She and Quinn had sort of made their peace the night before, and the short brunette had even decided to wear the leather trench coat that morning.

"She said something about hanging around the auditorium," he said stabbing his food with his fork. "With _Hank_."

Quinn looked up at him curiously. "Really?"

"Yeah, why?"

"No reason," she shrugged, her lips twitching. There so was a reason. "Just That I didn't think she'd go for it. She had her doubts last night."

Puck choked on the mouthful of fries he'd been chewing. "I'm glad she changed her mind though," Quinn narrowed her eyes at him. "Lord knows I encouraged her."

"What?!" he coughed. "You barely know the guy!"

"He's cute," she pointed out.

Puck snorted. "Whatever."

Quinn remained silent and played with her pie for a while. "Don't--," she started. She took a big breath and fixed her eyes on his. "Don't think I don't see how you look at her."

Puck general chest area (not his heart) clenched tightly. She noticed? Man, he couldn't catch a break!

"I'm surprised she didn't see it too, but well, it's Rachel," she said as if that was enough of excuse. And it really was when you thought about it. "And you're like the most obvious guy I've ever seen."

"Do you have to rub it in?" Puck grated out.

"Sorry," she apologized with a smile. "I just-- Rachel is my friend," Quinn admitted. "I'm actually proud of it, and yes, I realize it hasn't been long since we started hanging out, but I really care about her and she's all I've got right now," she reached out under the table and gently grasped his forearm. "You're an important part of my life now and so is she, and if things didn't work out between you two…"

"You want me to back off," he caught the lingering meaning of her speech. She was afraid that she'd loose Rachel if Puck came on to her and she rejected him or whatever. Which was probably likely to happen.

"I know it sounds selfish," she acknowledged. "But for what is worth, I know that if you owned up to it, you could really make her fall for you. I just wish you can wait until after the baby is born to do it."

"I wasn't going to do anything either way," he said all too quickly. Problem was she could tell when he was lying through his teeth.

"Okay," she nodded.

Not a minute later his phone started vibrating and hers started beeping. It was a text from Mercedes.

_OMG__ don't let R see this!_

It was followed by a web page link.

"What the hell is this?"

"I think I know," Quinn stood up paling rapidly. "And it's not good. Come on," she pulled him next her with surprising strength. "We need to go find Kelly Sully."

"Who? Why?"

Quickly, Quinn explained him what she'd walked into the day before and how she'd threatened Karofsky to back off from posting the cartoon.

"I still don't get why you want to go after this chick," Puck frowned. He was itching to find Karofsky and beat him up.

"She's his girlfriend," Quinn told him.

"And?"

"I have a plan," she assured him.

"Whatever," he shrugged. "I'm gonna go find him and kick his ass."

"Fine," Quinn watched him go and strarted to Santana and Brittany to enlist their help. Puck idea of payback might be more to the point and short term, but Quinn's was surely going to bite Karofsky's ass when he least expected it.

* * *

**Hey guy's! I hope you enjoyed this, sorry for any spelling mistake, and, oh yeah, I don't own Glee or any song featured.**

**please review!**


	5. Tonedeaf

**Hi everybody! I want to thank you all for all the reviews and alerts: they were awesome.**

**So I noticed there was a lot of enthusiasm about Quinn's devious payback. Honestly, I was planning on making just a small reference to it and getting on with the rest of the chapter but you guys really got me excited about the whole thing, so I decided to make a whole bigger deal about it.**

**Also, there's like a big enigma going on from chapter one, only addressed to shortly and which involves one of the main characters. If you figure out what's the enigma all about (not the answer: that one is planned for another chapter), you'll get a scene heads up. If not, well, you can keep on trying as the chapters are updated since I'm giving small clues as to what it is during each chapter.**

**Oh, and I was watching Wheels the other day and noticed there actually is a McKinley High wrestling team, and it even had a girl member whose parents sued the school, so please ignore that to the purpose of this story. (Though I laughed a lot with the short wrestling footage in that chapter, cuz the girl looks just like I imagine Gertie).**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Glee, 'My generation' or 'Hotel California'.**

Chapter five: Tone-deaf

Rachel sighed tiredly as she lay back on her bed under the covers late at night. She'd never believed a date could go on _sooo_ long.

Hank was a very nice guy, but he failed to keep her attention focused on him long enough for Rachel to find him interesting. Sure, he appreciated her talent and was very verbal about how far she would get in the future thanks to it, which was altogether a breath of fresh air to hear someone other than herself and her dad and daddy say it, but at one point (and she couldn't believe she was admitting that) all the constant complimenting got boring. They had gone out three times already and spent a good part of the school time together that week, and Rachel still didn't feel _it_. At first she accounted it to the fact that she barely knew him and that the brief history between them involved his somewhat public humiliation due to her direct actions, so she'd persevered, ignoring the voice in her head that wouldn't shut up and kept on telling her it wasn't going to work out.

But Hank was nice! And he _liked_ her! That didn't happen to her often. At all. Why couldn't she like him back? No one said she had to marry him, but having a romantic relationship that lasted longer than a week was something she wanted to experience; to have someone wanting to know where she was, forming a bond, having private jokes, all the stuff she'd only heard and seen around school or watched on t.v. teen drama shows.

She shut her eyes. Tomorrow would be a new day and she would make sure her relationship with Hank became deeper than the shallowness they shared. They had a lot of things in common, after all. They were both into the performing arts, they had History with Ms. Clark together, they attended McKinley High... There was a lot to talk about.

And she'd better keep him talking, Rachel thought, dread creeping in, because otherwise he'd insist they'd fill the awkward silence with a make out session, and Hank, as much as a nice guy he was, he was a terrible kisser.

Rachel wondered briefly if she should be concerned about the fact that she kept comparing Hank's inexperienced and extremely humid make out sessions with the ones she'd shared with Noah when they were dating. She didn't think it was a such a big deal. She'd found that she did that every time she kissed someone, she'd automatically compare him to her previous kissing partner. Jacob Ben-Israel had been her first kiss (and she deeply regretted it), which had caused her to feel nothing but disgust for him and had initiated his stalkerish tendencies towards her. When the time came and she got to kiss Finn, she'd compared him to her only reference and found improvement in Finn's shy, sweet kisses, even though she was sure there was more to it than she got to taste. All the information she'd previously gathered about romantic interaction and kisses with the one you loved showed that you were supposed to feel something like butterflies on your stomach and your knees would buckle and you couldn't think when you were entailed in the act of kissing. All those things didn't happen to her with Finn, not the first time in the auditorium or the second time on their fatal date . There were some butterflies though, so she'd dismissed the disappointment quickly though. They'd only kissed twice, for goodness sake, you didn't get weak in the knees so quickly. And Finn had a girlfriend at the time, so surely he wasn't really trying hard. With more time and better circumstances, Rachel was sure Finn would make her feel like she should be feeling when he kissed her.

And then it came Noah, and Rachel had a hard time walking that week, her knees buckled so much when he was around her and she could distinguish that smirk which wasn't really a smirk because it was sweeter and it made his green eyes glow in a way she'd never seen before and she just knew it meant her knees were going to get weaker any moment now as she was willingly dragged her to their secret make out spot. Which proved her point all around: with the appropriate circumstances, the knee buckling was indeed possible. Had it been Finn her boyfriend at the time and not Noah, the result would have been exactly the same.

So Rachel tried hard to picture Finn every time she was with Noah (and it had gotten really difficult the more their relationship deepened) because kissing Noah was just what kissing Finn should have felt like.

As she drifted into sleep, Rachel's head was clouded by the image of Hank clumsily nibbing her earlobe. Last time Noah had done that, she'd let out a moan so odd on her she was surprised it had been produced by her own precious vocal cords. Noah had smiled victoriously that one time and she had flushed red like a tomato, which only furthered his amusement, only to have him inform her he was going to keep doing that until he got another moan because he found them really sexy, and she adamantly assured him wasn't happening again because it was unladylike. Few minutes later his nibbling left her earlobe to focus on the soft spot behind her ear, and Rachel was proved wrong all way round.

Hank, on the other hand, had bitten her and choked on her earring. (They had to rush to the emergency room because he swallowed the thing. The nurse said it would pass naturally down Hank's system and that she would get it back in few days only. Rachel decided she never wanted to see the damn thing again).

* * *

Puck came to the realization of three things about himself shortly alter the parts for the school play were given away.

He had a crush on Rachel Berry.

He was a very jealous man.

He was in need of severe anger management therapy.

How he came to know this was very simple. The only possible reason why he dreamt of Rachel every night, spent almost every moment of the day thinking of her and felt the need to inflict pain on Hank Saunders was that he had developed strong feelings for Rachel. Once admitted, and refusing to feel any amount of shame or embarrassment for that particular fact (he was a freaking stud and man enough to own up to his crush), he proudly embraced his necessity to _end_ her current love interest.

It wasn't easy though. He was technically forbidden of pulling any moves on her that may alert her as to what his feelings were towards her, and he was sticking to the promise he'd made to Quinn: Rachel was off limits until the baby was born. So he couldn't just march in school and shove the kid into a locker and threaten him with death and mayhem in his oh so green eyes into backing the hell off from Rachel (and he wanted to do that so badly) because it could alert her, and others, about his particular interest.

Rachel had once told him while they were dating that simplicity in it's sheer elegance was the best way to go about any situation if you wanted to get something you _really wanted _without having people realize you wanted that in the first place. So all Puck had to do was play it cool, and quietly but surely, making sure Rachel became a single hot Jew chick by the end of the week (and remain that way, if possible, till Quinn popped out his baby girl).

The plan seemed easy. Puck was determined to succeed.

He walked in school the Tuesday before the play ready to put his plan in motion, ignoring all the dirty looks he still got from the majority of the student body caused by the breakout of Babygate. He was better looking than all of them put together either way, so suck that.

He found Rachel by her locker taking books out with Hank hovering over her. The guy was jerk, didn't he know it wasn't nice to tower over a girl? Rachel looked like a small kitten next to him, and Hank wasn't even all that big: he was more of the lean type and his height was unimpressive. But then again, Rachel was short, so she made almost everybody feel like they were tall. Which made the jerkface all the more jerky: he was taking advantage of that fact to use his superior (if only) height to intimidate her. Jerk.

He walked slowly as he approached them, trying to catch what they were talking about.

"So are you up for movies with my sister tonight?" Hank asked her, bare inches away from her. His chest was practically touching her back.

"I told you, I don't know," she snapped clearly annoyed. "I was planning on hanging out with Quinn today."

"'S okay," he shrugged, nodding. "I don't mind her tagging along."

Rachel angry gaze flared up at him. "She's nearly seven months pregnant, _Hank_," she informed him harshly. "She can't really tag along anything."

Puck's internal smirk grew bigger. It was going to be a piece of cake.

"Hey Berry," he greeted her coolly, leaning on the locker next to her, making sure he, unlike Hank, kept a respectful distance from her, but still managing to totally dominate the conversation. That was one of his acquired talents as a life long badass.

"Hello Noah," Rachel's face lighted up with her megawatt smile.

"Hi Noah," Hank nodded nonchalantly.

Puck's death glare focused on him. "Only she gets to call me Noah," he told Hank, who retreated a step from Rachel's back.

"Oh, sorry man," Hank said, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but right then and there. "Puck, then," he half smiled.

"Won't you start by Puckerman and we'll see how it goes?" Puck deadpanned expertly.

Hank almost pissed himself.

Puck dismissed the fellow by turning his attention to Rachel who'd avidly observed the interaction. "I talked to Quinn today," Puck lied bluntly. He was so good at it. "I think she's feeling a little left out lately," he crossed his arms over his chest, making sure his face showed just how worried he was about Quinn feelings. "I was thinking maybe we could cheer her up tonight?" he suggested sheepishly.

Rachel's worried face made him want to admit he was lying, but Hank's glare of red hot anger was totally worth whatever guilt Puck might be getting. He had just proudly ruined the jerk's plans for the night with Rachel.

"She thinks I'm neglecting our friendship?" she bit her lip. Rachel had found in Quinn someone she could rely on, she didn't want to kill their friendship from the go because Hank felt the need to monopolize her every single spare time. And it couldn't be good for the baby if she was all bumped out and depressed. "Well, then that has to change," she said determinately. "We'll have a little impromptu get together tonight. You bring the movies and I'll get some wholesome snacks," which meant the girls would reject his movie selection and they'd end up watching one of her vast chickflick collection and ordering takeouts because when Rachel said 'wholesome' it really meant tasteless crap.

Puck grinned satisfied. "Sounds great."

"What about my sister Rachel?" Hank asked irritated. "She really wants to meet you."

She turned and stared at him; she'd totally forgotten he was still standing there.

Puck's grin widened. When he was somewhere, he _really_ was there. He totally dominated female attention.

"We've only been dating for a week, Hank," she reminded him. "I don't think either one of us is ready to meet the members of our respective families."

The bell rang just then.

"C'mon," Puck said touching her elbow. "We have Math class."

Rachel nodded and promptly shut her locker door saying some random good bye to Hank and leaving him practically smoking out of his ears standing by her locker.

Puck smirked internally. It was going to be a piece of easy bake cake.

* * *

Quinn was too busy planning the logistics of her payback to feel left out by Rachel, because really, her life seemed to be full with complications nowadays and, as opposed to what she might have expected, only half of them were directly caused by her being pregnant. As if having a four pound bundle of joy pressing nonstop on her bladder, getting slushied almost everyday and being ignored by Finn wasn't bad enough, Quinn also had to deal with other people's feelings. And they called her hormonal.

It started when she enlisted Santana and Brittany's help. Brittany had clapped and stated she'd always wanted to cash one, even if it was Rachel's. Santana had to explain her that Quinn was referring to a payback, not a paycheck, and that they wouldn't be helping Quinn at all.

"Why not?" Quinn asked.

"Because we're not friends," Santana clarified derisively. "And we don't have time to help with Man Hands beaten up reputation."

Claws up, Quinn retorted sharply "If tables were turned, she'd help you and you know it."

Santana just wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes. Standing between them, Brittany glanced back and forward between the two girls, a frightened look settling upon her face.

"Plus," Quinn added. "I thought we were okay."

"We're NOT okay, princess."

Santana was never one to explode. She was the epitome of all that was concealing and controlling your emotions. She might be a bitch, but she wasn't a stupid one, and she'd learned at a young age that you got it easier if you got people wondering what you were really thinking or feeling. Deception was the killer for ruling others, and if you couldn't keep a hand on your own emotions, then you were destined to failure.

So when she was trembling in anger and her perfectly framed by arched brows eyes were wide like plates and twitching, you knew she'd totally lost it.

Quinn was tempted to take a step back. She'd never seen Santana so upset.

"But," she said confused, frowning. "What's the matter? It's not like we had a huge fight or anything," Quinn half smiled, starting to think the entire situation and, most especially, Santana's reaction, was silly to the extreme. She glanced at Brittany for confirmation, but only found that she was staring at her in incredulous shock.

Santana was fuming now, pinching the bridge of her nose as to avoin marching upfront and punching Quinn, who, in awe, couldn't understand what was the big deal.

The head cheerleader took it upon herself to enlighten her. "You slept with my boyfriend," she said tightly.

"What?" Quinn blinked. Santana just stared back at her. "What?" she repeated.

She waved her manicured hand at Quinn's belly. "Puck was my boyfriend when you two had sex. You broke girlcode."

Brittaney nodded in agreement. "You can't have sex with your girlfriend's boyfriend," she recited. And then, a lightbulb lighting above her head, she added. "Unless it's a threesome."

"Oh," Quinn's eyes went back to fix with San's, realization and a good deal of guilt creeping up on her. "I had no idea you felt that way."

"I do."

"If it's any consolation, I'm really sorry," she assured her wholeheartedly.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Only because you have the evidence perking up under your shirt."

Quinn swung a protective arm around her belly. She knew everyone was thinking that, but hearing it said to your face in Santana's infamous bold manner was a whole new experience. "We were drunk," she reminded her harshly. "Does it really look like we planned this?"

"You lied to me," San slapped. "I had to find out through Mercedes, and keep it bottled up because you were already having a hard time," her voice trembled as she put words to the feelings that had been killing her since before Babygate. "I spared you this conversation, because it'd get you as upset as I am, and unlike you, I care about my friends."

"San--"

"Don't. If you want be all friendly with RuPaul, that's fine, but don't ask me to help you because you were a terrible friend to me," she spitted, breathing hard.

Minutes passed with hurt silence around them. How could she have been so blind? She was so self involved in how crappy her life was, Quinn hadn't even registered that she'd betrayed one of her oldest friends. All she had worried about was the knife she and Puck had stuck in Finn's back, but had overlooked the fact that Santana had been a close bystander and somewhat involved too.

"Okay," Quinn nodded, fighting back the tears. "But if you don't help me, I won't help you with the Cheerios, and you know you're gonna blow Nationals without me."

Santana puckered slightly and sneered. "That's low Q, even for you."

"I know."

And so Santana and Brittaney became active and semi willing participants of Quinn's elaborated revenge plan.

The payback started like this.

Dave Karofsky had only had one girlfriend in his entire life and that girl was Kelly Sully. They had been neighbours and close childhood friends, so when puberty started getting them hormonal and frisky, they figured 'hey, we do homework together, hang out all of the time and our parents think we're playing go fish when we're up on out respective rooms, _together_. Why don't we discover the wonders of underage sexual initiation together?' Next thing, Karofsky was beating up anyone who dared glance sideways at his girl and appreciate the perky boobs that were starting to make an apparition under her shirts, and Kelly was staking her claim just as bluntly: if you were playing bottle and Karofsky was one of the guys rounded up, you just _wished_ the damn thing didn't land on him.

When you thought about it, their back round love story was kind of cute (and none the less cliched, as Santana pointed out several times that day) and they would be McKinley's 'it' couple if Karofsky weren't such an asshole and a loser and Kelly weren't so obnoxious. Actually, now that Finn and Quinn had broken up and the hokey team was ranking up in the social hierarchy due to two wins, the masses were starting to look up at them to fill the regal spot Finn and Quinn had left vacant. Which only meant that there was extra attention to their every move, and it was good if you liked it and wanted to climb up. But it wasn't when your boyfriend was a confirmed cheater.

Quinn, Santana and Brittany approached Kelly by her locker after laying out the terms of the plan. In a perfect example of how obnoxious she naturally was, Kelly looked at the three of them up and down, smirking in an amused fashion at Quinn's belly. "Can I help you?" she sneered.

"We were just wondering if you were okay," Brittany asked sympathetically.

Kelly turned dark and gloom in the spot. "Mind your own business Cheerio," Kelly slapped and shut her locker closed.

Santana reached out and grabbed her elbow, making her turn around. Kelly received her approach with an arched brow that clearly implied violence if she didn't remove her hand from her. "We're serious," San mirrored Brittany's tone. "We heard about what happened, and you should know, we totally got your back," she informed her. "Us girls have to stick together."

Kelly gave her a quizzical look and bit the inside of her lip. "What's going on here?" she asked boldly. "You're being too nice."

"I told you we shouldn't have come over to hover her like this," Quinn whispered loudly to the other two, sparing one sympathy glance for Kelly. "Clearly she has her defences up," Santana and Brittany nodded understandingly. "Look," Quinn sighed, taking one step closer and reaching out to hold Kelly's hand. The girl just looked at it as if it were contagious, but Quinn persevered. "We just didn't want to see you upset. We may not be friends, but we go way back," she smiled, as if remembering the good and imaginary times they had together. Kelly frowned, trying to recall any of them. "We just thought you could use a friend to talk," Quinn shrugged.

Kelly's features failed her, and they saw the vulnerable girl she hid. She wasn't exactly known for her achieves in the friend department. In fact, Quinn was sure the only friend she had ever had was her current boyfriend, and that didn't help matters right now.

"Hum, thanks," Kelly choked out, fighting back the tars that were starting to sting her eyes. "It means a lot."

All three of them smiled warmly. Brittany went one step further and hugged her. Surprisingly, Kelly let her, and even returned the hug in the end.

"Why don't you sit with us at lunch?" San told her and Kelly gaped at her. No one, with the sole exception of super hot jocks, was ever invited to the Cheerios table.

"Okay," Kelly nodded, the smile partly escaping form the corners of her lips.

Quinn smirked inwardly. Karofsky was going to regret ever crossing her.

* * *

"Good Puckerman! Nice form," Coach Ritchie complimented him as he gripped Jake and pinned him to the mat and held his left arm and right leg up Jake's back like he was pig waiting for the apple to be shoved into his mouth.

Puck let go of Jake, who was whining lamely and held his hand up for him to help him up. He was brightly grinning and with reason: the wrestling team kicked ass and what was better, he totally kicked ass at it. He got to let out all the anger and frustration his complicated life set upon him and was sure not to get in trouble for beating up a guy. It was badass heaven.

The only two things he didn't like was the fact that Gertie could get him flat on his back panting for air, uselessly waiting for her to end him in one single move, and that the spandex singlets they had to wear were too tight. He had an amazing bod, but flaunting it out in the tight red material that adjusted him like it was a second skin wasn't exactly his personal idea of what sexy was. Plus, he had to watch Tom, Jake, Luke and Gertie wearing them, and if he looked half as ridiculous as they did, well, he would look ridiculous.

"Thanks Coach," he beamed as he marched to the bench and splashed water over his face and drank some.

Coach had just called Tom and Gertie for go when Sweet Caroline went off. As everyone alerted that Puck had a love song as a ringtone, he reached down to his bag and shoved the cell to his ear. "'Sup Berry?"

"Hi, Noah," she said hesitatenly. "How are things?"

He picked the nervousness in her tone at one. "What happened?"

"Well," she took a calming breath. "Promise you won't freak out."

"What happened?" he repeated more forcefully.

"It's, hum--"

"Stop dancing around it and tell me what the fuck is up."

"Your guitar had an accident," Rachel told him in one breath.

One beat. Two beats. And then, "What?"

"We were practicing the songs for the play, and Richard Mills, the one who plays Judas, insisted he didn't need you to do the singing because he was gifted enough to handle on his own," she explained quickly. "He picked up your guitar and well..."

"Well what? Did he pull a string or some shit?" Puck practically screamed into the phone. His teammates and Coach stopped what they were doing and paid attention to Puck's troubled features.

Rachel sighed lamely. "Well, no. He performed quite well, though nowhere near as good as you, and we were very clear that your guitar was off limits, Noah, I swear," Rachel assured him.

"What happened?" Puck asked lowly, dread clasping it's cold hand around his throat.

"He tripped when he was putting it away," she might as well told him someone had died, her tone was so somber. "He fell on it."

Puck closed his eyes. "How bad is it?" he choked out.

"Bad, but Noah--"

He didn't wait to hear no more. Puck just marched out of the gym, straight to the choir room.

Tom looked at his dad. "Go," Coach dismissed them. "Make sure he don't kill no one."

The Glee and drama club practiced together almost every day after school. As some of the Gleeks had other extra curricular activities, like cheerleading, basketball and, in Puck's case, wrestling team, Mr. Shue and Ms. Spencer, the drama club director, were highly approving and incredibly understanding of the delicate, and specially annoying, situation Figgins had doomed them with.

Play rehearsals lasted longer than the hour and a half that Glee rehearsals usually took, and on Tuesdays and Fridays, it interfered with wrestling practice, so Puck would leave early, attend to practice, beat up Tom, Jake and Luke, get beaten up by Gertie and, if they hadn't finished by the time he had, return to the auditorium to gather with the others. So that's where he was heading, bolting down the empty school hallways, fully embracing the fact that he would be inflicting a good deal of pain into the poor soul or Ricky Mills. No one messed with his guitar. It was his most precious possession, his truck being a close and continuously struggling second. He loved that guitar. He had named it (no, the name he would never reveal). He _needed_ his guitar.

Ricky was going _down_.

"Dude, what happened?" Tom asked him as he, and the other three followed briskly in his wake.

"Douche damaged my guitar," Puck informed them curtly.

"Man, that's tough," Jake shook his head. "My cousin once spilled hot cocoa over my favourite chessboard," he related remembering the incident with sorrow plastering upon his face. "It was no good after that."

They reached the double doors of the auditorium in no time, which Puck had no problem, in his state of blind fury, to bash open. The immediate collective shriek implied he got just what he wanted: to inflict terror and create the perfect environment of fear necessary to commit murder.

Rachel was standing in the middle of the stage, closely guarding the broken pieces of his beloved guitar. Hank had been next to her, but he figured the proximity between himself and Puck's guitar was too small for his own good. The Glee Clubbers were all gathered round, minus Quinn who was sitting nearby, interrupted in the middle of gossiping, staring, anxiously waiting for him to kill Judas. The drama club didn't seem all too worried though: some were sitting, some were reading lines. Mr. Shuester stood near Rachel and Ms. Spencer was nowhere to be seen.

The douche was leaning against the piano.

Before he noticed, Puck reached the stage marching straight to inspect the damage produced to his guitar. The cold hand that was clutching his throat? Yeah, most definitely frozen now.

It was just like Rachel had said. Bad. Only the strings held the neck and thebody together. The douche must've landed hard on it.

Puck gently picked it up and held it closely. It was really bad.

In a way only he knew how to achieve, Puck inflicted fear and mayhem with his musky green eyes.

"I will hurt you," he informed Ricky Mills. The threat wasn't in his tone -he'd said the words quite softly- but in his demeanor. It had _you better run fast_ written all over his face.

The Gleeks noticed and squirmed. Shue noticed and backed one involuntary step away. Hank noticed and fidgeted nervously.

Rachel noticed. And reached out to touch his arm. "Noah," she said softly.

But he wasn't about to chill down. He had learnt how to play the guitar with that guitar, his grandpa had taught him and passed it on to him. The thing was older than Puck -it had been used by his grandpa to seduce his grandma way back when they were young and wild- and he took care of it with religious intentness. Ricky was a dead man.

"Chill, Sixpack Joe, it was an accident," Ricky condescended like it was no big deal.

Puck's eyesight turned blood red and stormed toward the guy, barely registering handing the pieces of his broken guitar to Rachel. Ricky's eyes widened and he had the decency to uncross his arms as he stared in fear how Puck launched onto him.

He was intercepted (barely) by Hank. "C'mon, man, he's sorry," he assured him, finding courage to stand up to Puck in his state of blind rage. "Let's just put this all behind us."

Puck shoved him off with little effort. "Put it behind your ass, you tone-deaf dickhead. I'm going for blood."

He reached Ricky, and Ricky wasn't fast enough to run away. The result? With one punch, the guy's nose was deep into his skull.

Puck was intercepted once again, this time by Finn, Matt and Mike (Hank was still flat on his back on the wooden floor) who were persistent in shoving him away from the now bleeding Ricky Mills.

"That's enough, Puck," Mr. Shue stepped in. Was it just him, or Puck really couldn't detect any amount of anger in his tone? "Richard promises to pay to have it repaired, right?" he said turning to Ricky, who was being assited by the female members of the drama club. He nodded promptly. "See? All good," he sighed, reaching out and trying to get the guitar off Rachel's hands, who glanced at Puck to see if he was okay with it. "I'll get it fixed," he promised Puck wholeheartedly.

Puck nodded curtly, his death glare returning to Ricky (only shortly stopping in Hank's direction) and stared the drama club into hastily vacating the auditorium in few seconds, the girls sending dirty, enraged looks at him.

"OMG," Kurt gasped, grasping on Mercedes arm.

"I know. They look _fine_," she said appreciating the wrestling team guys and their tight outfits. No one saw Matt glaring at her.

"No," Kurt shook his head. "He used _tone-deaf_as an insult," he breathed out. "He has truly become one of us!"

* * *

"I don't like him," Quinn decided as she lay next to Rachel in her bed, both staring pointlessly at her ceiling.

"Can you believe Hank was so--" Rachel searched for a word to best fit her boyfriend's last behaviour, but her vast vocabulary skills were failing her that time.

"Childish? Inappropriate? Rude? Annoying?" Quinn suggested.

"Yes," Rachel sighed tiredly. "He wasn't invited. Why did he come?"

Quinn had a good guess at the the answer to that question. The root of it was plain and simple jealously.

Puck and come over and the three of them had had their movie and pizza night and against all odds, his sour mood produced by the guitar incident downed several levels. Halfway down Made of Honor, the doorbell had rang and, surprise, surprise, Hank was standing in the doorstep with his perky nine year old sister next to him. Being the proper hostess Rachel prided herself to be, she invited them to come in and asked Hank, if not a little shocked, just what he was doing there.

He had boldly told her he wanted to hang out with her and her friends that night and that his sister Millie was simply dying to meet her. Without waiting to be invited further into the house, Hank found his way to the living room where Puck and Quinn were sitting at the couch, him rubbing her swollen feet, leaving Rachel by the door to be shot with as many questions as she'd ever heard together in such a short amount of time in her entire life.

Long story short, Hank had competed with his sister to monopolize Rachel's attention, ignoring the movie (after insisting that they played it from he beginning because he hadn't seen it yet) and keeping Rachel from watch it as well, insisting on dragging her to the kitchen away form his sister with the most silly and obvious excuses so that they could make out heavily. All being closely watched by Puck and Quinn.

Without doubt, the highlight of the night was this.

"Aren't you the guy who cleans our pool?" Millie asked Puck after Rachel had turned to her brother to tell him that no, she wasn't making any more popcorn.

Puck smirked unrepentantly and stared knowingly at Hank as he answered the little girl's question. "Yes, I am."

Hank instantly shot up from his seat and jumped over Puck, with little if any regard to Quinn's pregnant belly, which happened to be in the way.

Now Quinn had developed the maternal instinct of a crazy, baby protector lioness, so Hank never really made it all the way down to Puck's throat as he'd first intended: Quinn was quick to knee him in the crutch as he tried to pass over her, and she didn't stop there. There was a huge struggle everyone but Millie participated in; Quinn was pissed off her senses that Hank would so carelessly endanger her babygirl, Puck run down the same lines (and had wanted an excuse to suckerpunch the guy since he'd first walk in that night), Hank felt the need to defend his mother's wounded reputation, and Rachel was driven by the fear of anyone getting hurt.

After breaking, Hank limped out of the house dragging his crying sister (she'd started when she'd seen her brother being punched by Quinn and tackled by Puckonto the floor where Quinn proceeded to kick him), growling a good-bye and a promise to talk to Rachel the next day. Movie night was officially ended after that. Puck left (but not before he let Rachel worry herself over his barely nudged jaw because really, it just felt so goddamn good as she caressed his cheek and gently applied an icepack) and Quinn and Rachel went upstairs to girltalk about what had happened.

"I'm not sure about him," Rachel confessed.

Beside her, Quinn snorted. "He's an egotistical ass. I _don't_ like him."

"He's kind of dense sometimes too," she added. Then, unsure, she asked her friend. "Should I break up with him?"

Quinn frowned slightly and propped herself up on her elbow to look at Rachel. "Well, is he always this douchy or was it just tonight?"

"He's nice," she assured her, and somehow the word sounded more like an insult than a compliment. Quinn's brow shot up in amusement. "Well, I don't know him that well, I'm sure he has character depth and a lot of praisable qualities," Rachel elaborated. "I just haven't been able to spot any of them."

"Then you should do as you feel is right," Quinn advised wisely.

Rachel nodded, still unsure of where she stood with her boyfriend. Hank seemed too possessive and adamant lately. She didn't approve of his tendency of monopolizing her time and doing as he pleased without caring what she had to say about it: if there was one thing her dad and daddy had taught her was that independence was the key to success both in the personal and professional aspects of one's life.

"Oh," she shrieked suddenly, sitting up. "I have to upload my MySpace video. I can't believe I almost forgot."

She left the bed and went to set the camera and her computer. Quinn thought she might go and take a bubble bath since Rachel would take about forty minutes with all the takes she'd record until she got the performance perfect. When she'd reached the door, however, her mind was turned the other side.

"Would you like to join me?" Rachel asked hesitantly. "I'm sure my avid fans will enjoy a duet for a change."

"Okay," Quinn smilled cheerily.

Maybe (surely) they'd get a lot of flame, but who cares? When you could reach a high F, you knew you were _it_.

* * *

The rest of the week went on like this.

Quinn bit back all the bitchy and well deserved comebacks she itched to snort at Kelly Sully, put up with her horrible, horrible personality and waited patiently until her walls crumbled. When they did, the dimensions of her payback became huge and Karofsky faced greater humiliation than she'd foreseen.

Santana talked to her very little and only about things that strictly concerned cheerleading and Quinn's machinations.

Brittany talked a lot, filling in the often awkward silence between San and Quinn with the most weird stories. One of them was the unanimous highlight, featuring herself getting locked up in her own closet for a whole weekend putting to practice the knowledge she'd gathered about wardrobe travelling from the Narnia movies.

Puck was holyfucking pissed off his ass. His guitar was taking longer to get fixed, and even though there were other acoustic guitars at school and he had Shue's permission to use them, they just weren't right for him (he'd been tempted to smack one into the ground after he frustratedly blew every note). Artie said he could use his electrical guitar, which in all fairness wasn't all that new to Puck and he had actually been practicing really hard to get it right (Rachel saw the whole situation as a means for him to get out of the box and broaden his musical horizons). But he missed the familiar weight of his guitar on his thigh, and the soft sound as he strummed it. It just wasn't the same (And he felt so bumped about it he almost didn't pay any attention to Rachel and Hank's couple developing. _Almost_ being the key word, of course).

Rachel found that romantic comedies and t.v. series were absolutely right about the facts of teen romantic interaction: you could not force love, or attachment even. She had done the proper research on line and while there were a fair amount of teens her age who seemed unimpressed by the fact that they gave themselves into meaningless relationships, they were all still destined to failure. And Rachel refused to be a loser.

(Also, Hank's hands had developped a very much annoying tendency to wander around her body, uninvited of course, which she found just as repeling as the fact that he got angry everytime she said no.)

(And Noah had _never_ been angry when she said no.)

Saturday finally came, and with it the school production of Jesus Christ Superstar. The lame school production of Jesus Christ Superstar, that is. The audience was majorly composed by the family members of the cast and other people who knew shit what a good stage performance was like, so even though Hank kept closing his eyes in the middle of a sentence as in trying to remember what the next line was; and Ricky Mills was all black and blue around his face and sounded like a beaten up cornet stuck to a industrial chimney; and the lip-synching was pathetic, the drama club still got all the applause and the over sized flower bouquets bought by the parents of the cast. The only mention to the Glee Club was made toward the end of the performance when people were starting to get up, in which they emerged from their dark corner and took the center of the stage to deliver the act Mr. Shue had twisted Figgins arm into letting them perform.

People try to put us d-down (Talkin' 'bout my generation)  
Just because we get around (Talkin' 'bout my generation)  
Things they do look awful c-c-cold (Talkin' 'bout my generation)  
I hope I die before I get old (Talkin' 'bout my generation)

This is my generation  
This is my generation, baby

Why don't you all f-fade away (Talkin' 'bout my generation)  
And don't try to dig what we all s-s-say (Talkin' 'bout my generation)  
I'm not trying to cause a big s-s-sensation (Talkin' 'bout my generation)  
I'm just talkin' 'bout my g-g-g-generation (Talkin' 'bout my generation)

This is my generation  
This is my generation, baby

The song was supposed to continue; Mercedes hadn't even given out any of her patented soul shattering cries. But as the tension between the drama club and the Gleeks had grown after Puck assaulted Ricky, so it seemed had grown their desire to avenge their fellow freak-loser.

You know what happens when you mix water and flour? You get a very icky substance that is just as good as glue, only nastier because it dries really fast and it's a bitch to take out. Especially if after pouring a colossal amount of it over the heads of twelve unsuspected teens whilst in the middle of singing and dancing, you decide to pour sawdust over them as well.

What happened next? Well, Puck was keen on marching over to the drama losers and chocke them. To go by the huffed angry noises his teammates were making, should he follow that path, he'd get lots of followers.

Rachel's first reaction, as expected, was speaking. And while Puck had been sure the sentence to exit her lips was going to be 'violence is never the answer', he was thoroughly shocked (as was everyone withing the auditorium walls) to hear her cry out like she was some crazy, blood thirsty sociopath "GET THEM!"

And they did. By the time the collective fight was over (only because some of the parents hit the sprinklers and pulled out the fire extinguishers to suffocate the fight) the male members of the drama club were flat on their backs, playing dead so Puck, Finn, Matt and Mike would stop hitting them. The drama girls didn't get it any better: the unleashed craziness of the Gleek chicks (including Kurt) was fully unrestrained. They resorted to props to hit on their targets as well as their fists.

* * *

Rachel sat alone in a bench beside the double doors of McKinley admiring the snow fall slowly to the floor, breathing in the cold air. It was nice out there. No one was around, as only the Glee members stayed behind after the play to clean themselves off the disgusting icky concoction that had been tossed over them. She'd showered in the locker room like the rest, making it a must to be down with it as hastily as possibly so she could catch up with Hank before he left the nurses office, where the drama kids had been taken to inspect the damage they had received at the hand of the furious dozen of vocally gifted teens.

Puck slumped next to her. "'Sup Berry?"

"Nothing really," she shrugged, fairly calm considering the circumstances. "I broke up with Hank," she let him know.

"No kiddin'? I thought you two were the real thing!" he snapped sarcastically. When she frowned, clearly hurt, he was quick to amend his words. "Sorry. Just messing with you."

"It's Okay," she sighed. She wasn't really upset anyway. "I didn't like him either way, and even though he assured me he had nothing to do with the Carrie incident during our presentation, I just didn't think it was worth the trouble of continuing a clearly unhealthy relationship with no future."

"If you didn't like him, why'd you dated him?"

"He was nice!" it seemed like all she did was repeat that. "At first."

Puck narrowed his green eyes dangerously. "What?" he asked, his voice ice cold. He knew the guy was a douche, but that and him actually being douchy with Rachel was a whole different deal.

Just as Puck considered whether his grandpa would let him borrow his gunshot, Rachel rolled her eyes and elaborated. "It was nothing, really. I just didn't approve of his necessity to perch on me all the time. As opposed to general opinion, I don't like clingy relationships."

Puck knew that (and had loved that) from back when they were dating. It was one of the coolest things about dating Rachel Berry: she was crazy, but she could be crazy at a distance (unless they were making out. In that case, distance became a non-issue).

"Plus, he wasn't thrilled at my resolution of not crossing to seccond base," Rachel informed him, her cheeks only getting a little pinker as she glanced sideways to meet his eye. Then she looked down, looking beaten for a moment. "I'm sure he was going to break up with me eventually."

"No he wasn't," Puck snorted, vomiting honesty. "No guy with two functioning braincells ever would."

Her mouth formed a perfect 'o' shape and she silently gaped at him.

Yes, Puck realized what he had just said. He had admitted that he'd lied before (because, come on! he had), that time in the bleachers when Rachel dumped him.

"Gotta go," he stood up acting as casually as possible. Maybe if he didn't make a big deal out of it and if he didn't look like he had _just freaking admitted that he liked her_, she wouldn't think much of it.

Rachel did look a little confused now (Puck mentally spat his own shoulder), but she shook her head watching him go.

"Isn't that Artie's guitar?" she called out, noticing the familiar black guitar case with the beaded flaming pattern.

"Yeah," he answered without turning around. "He forgot it with all the goo frenzies, so he asked me to drop it off in my way home."

"Why would he ask you?" she called louder. Puck, who'd been walking away, stopped, turned and glared.

"Who else he's got? Beyonce?" he snorted. "Not happening. Guitars are sacred, Berry. They must be trusted only to fully capable people who understands the intensity of the power they entail."

"That's the longest sentence I ever heard you speak."

He visibly, painfully winced, but ruined the effect by smiling with his eyes. "I know. Gotta stop hanging out with you."

Puck heard her chuckle lightly as he made his way over to his truck, Artie's guitar perched on his shoulder. It was silly how lighthearted that sound made him feel.

* * *

For Quinn and Puck, Monday was the day that alleviated the past week tension they'd both respectively dealt with.

Before homeroom, and thanks to Kelly Sully and her eagerness at getting back at her cheating now ex boyfriend, the entire McKinley High student population knew that Dave Karofsky had a thing for Star Wars action figures and puppet theatring with them in front of his webcam. Kelly had showed Quinn, Santana and Brittany tons of videos of Karofsky's original stories, mostly performed by Han Solo and Anakin Skywalker, with the addition of his own voice to live up the characters, and in turn the three girls had convinced her of posting them on line and e-mailing them to everybody. Just as easily, Kelly became a revenge driven marionette in Quinn's devious machinations. And just as easy, Dave Karofsky became the new laughing stock of McKinley High.

For Puck, that day held a different significance.

"C'mon, guys gather round," Mr. Shue called as he walked in rehearsal that afternoon, his curly hair bouncing around.

He was holding Puck's guitar. He marched toward the teacher, itching to touch his beloved instrument again (Puck didn't notice that Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Mercedes, Brittany and Kurt were oohing and aahing, admiring how cute he looked as he stared at his guitar, while Artie nodded, understanding).

"How 'bout we celebrate the return of Puck's guitar, huh?" he asked the team after he handed it over to him. The Gleeks (minus, Finn, Mike and Matt) all cheered in agreement. "So?" Shue patted Puck's shoulder. "Think you can handle the lead?"

"Whatcha have in mind?" he smirked wickedly.

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair  
Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air  
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light  
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim  
I had to stop for the night  
There she stood in the doorway;  
I heard the mission bell  
And I was thinking to myself,  
'This could be heaven or this could be hell?'  
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way  
There were voices down the corridor,  
I thought I heard them say...

Welcome to the hotel California  
Such a lovely place  
Such a lovely face  
Plenty of room at the hotel California  
Any time of year, you can find it here

Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes Benz  
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys, that she calls friends  
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.  
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget

Welcome to the hotel California  
Such a lovely place  
Such a lovely face  
They livin' it up at the hotel California  
What a nice surprise, bring your alibis

Last thing I remember, I was  
Running for the door  
I had to find the passage back  
To the place I was before  
'Relax,' said the night man,  
'We are programmed to receive.  
You can checkout any time you like,  
But you can never leave!'

* * *

**As I was writing this chapter, it felt like it would NEVER END. And then the editing, re-reading, god, it took me longer than I had thought. I hope it was worth it, though, and you liked it.**

**REVIEW!!!!!! Tell me your guess about the big enigma!**


	6. Diva off

**Hello!! Oh my God, I loved your reviews!!! seriously guys keep it up!**

**Okay, there are going to be one or two parts where you just purely hate Rachel in this chapter, and it's intended that way, so don't feel guilty about it. Also, there's a huge clue on the enigma in this one too, so you might want to pay a lot of attention. **

**I don't own Glee, "Reason to believe" or "Unchain my heart".**

Chapter six: Diva off.

The sound of brisk feet clad in leather shoes stopped in the middle of the hallway, huffed greetings being heard all the way down the hall where twelve teens in various states of anxiousness waited silently for their visitor.

The brisk clapping of Shuester's shoes was now accompanied by a slowly dragged, heavier one, joined regularly by the loud thud of a cane as it hit the floor, helping the owner of the tired walking.

Inside the choir room, McKinley High's Glee Club stood together in three lines. Finn, Puck, Mike, Matt and Brittany on the back, Santana, Quinn, Mercedes and Tina in the middle, and Rachel, Artie and Kurt up front. Their shoulders square, postures perfect, jaws parallel to the floor, their noses proudly up. No one was speaking, their mouths were tightly closed, and they emitted no sound as they filled their giftedly expanded lungs with the most necessary air.

The briskly clapping and the dragged out walking were coming closer, and nobody moved, holding themselves proper and regal.

But one the inside, Rachel Berry was jumping like an ADHD kid who'd skipped her daily Ritalin shot. They were going to meet one of McKinley Glee Club legends: Lillian Adler, the Glee director who got her team to win Nationals five consecutive years before tax evasion sent her to jail in '97. Her vocal couching as well as motivation skills were praised heavily by the competition as well as the judges and the National Committee granted her with the Best Vocal Director of a High School Show Choir award before she was forced to retire. Lillian Adler had returned to shepherd them to victory.

"Everyone," Shue said as he walked back in, holding the door open. "It's my pleasure to introduce you to my former Glee director and personal favorite teacher, Ms. Lillian Adler," he beamed as he made room for her to walk in.

Everybody held their breaths and watched expectantly.

There was a picture of her on the trophy shelf and they had all seen it. As it happens, it didn't quite prepare them for the sight of her. In the picture she was looking into the light fully exposing her large double chin and while her hair style was funny, it had been taken in the nineties, so no one really blamed her. Right now, over ten years later, she looked like Travolta in the Hair movie: bad.

She had two double chins, adding up to four; her neckline was completely gone, both from the fat and the loose skin on the sides. She sported the same hair style as in the picture and she was wearing a long tube skirt which revealed the colossal size of her ankles.

Rachel sighed inwardly. Fate was so wicked sometimes, when he chose to gift the most awkward people with such talent.

"She's going to stay with us for the week and we're preparing a number for Regionals," Shue informed them what they had all already guessed.

Rachel plastered her trademark megawatt smile upon her face. As rehearsed, it was her turn to welcome Ms. Adler and thank her for her kindness and the trouble she'd taken to come over. Rachel only got to open her mouth though, because before she could let out a sound, Ms. Adler was shushing her.

Fairly confused, Rachel closed her mouth.

"What is this?" Lillian asked frowning over the kids.

"Uhm, it's the Glee Club," Shue responded sounding every bit as baffled as he looked.

With admirable resolution, she marched in front of them and pointed at Brittany and Santana with her cane.

"Those two better not be Cheerleaders," she warned him.

But they were, and that was quite bluntly stated by their outfits.

The girls relaxed stance was momentarily shaken as they exchanged one confused look

"They are Santana Lopez and Brittany Vogel," Shue introduced them, before adding hesitatingly. "And they are Cheerios, yes."

Lillian Adler turned her circumferenced self around and stared at her former student in horror. "How could you let the Glee Club be infected by the cheerleaders?"

"Excuse me?" Santana snapped but she was royally ignored by Lillian, who had dismissed them and was currently scattering through the students in front of her.

"Why are you in a wheel chair?" she rudely asked Artie.

"Dragging around isn't very dignifying," he retorted straight faced.

"And how do you dance?"

"I wheel."

Lillian sighed exasperated and looked up as if to pray. By now all the Gleeks had lost their composure.

"Holy crap on a cracker," she cursed staring astonished at Puck. "What the heck happened to your face kid?"

Puck glared at her intently. That issue was one to never be addressed to in front of him, and everybody knew that, just as they knew who was responsible for his black and blue complexion.

"I'm on the wrestling team," he gritted out. Finn shared a triumphant glance with Mike and Matt: they knew he wouldn't tell on them. "I landed hard on the mat."

"Did you land hard on a crazy maniac hairstyler too?"

Puck closed his eyes and took a big calming breath. He was so not in the mood for that kind of shit right now.

"And he's a jock?" she turned enraged back to Shue. "Why do you keep polluting Glee?"

"Mr. Shuester!" Rachel gasped scandalized. "Are you going to permit such behavior?"

"Who are you?" Lillian pointed at her with her cane.

"I am Rachel Berry, female lead singer," she answered proudly.

The ancient fat woman inspected her for a couple of minutes, stopping her intent gaze on her pink pantyhose clad legs, the length of her skirt –or lack thereof- and her prim cashmere cardigan. "How does your mother let you out the house wearing that?"

"I don't have a mother, I have two gay dads."

Lillian's look of horror appalled even further.

"Let me spare you the trouble," Puck cut in rudely and started pointing at his fellow Glee Clubbers. "Jock; jock; jock; cheerleader; head cheerleader; former head cheerleader and pregnant," he stopped at Mercedes, slightly taken aback. "Plain scary all the freaking time," then Tina "used to stutter but now she's just Goth and a little weird," Rachel came next "makes people want to light themselves on fire; paralyzed," he said referring to Artie, to finally point at Kurt "and gay lady gay. Can we get out of here now?"

Lillian gaped wide eyed for a whole minute. When she snapped out of it, she once again lifted her cane and pointed it at him. "Front and center!" she barked. Rolling his eyes, Puck lazily made his way over there. "What's your name?"

"Puck," he annoyingly stressed the P.

"Your _full_ name."

"His name is Noah Puckerman," Shue said quickly, sending Puck a glowering warning look.

Puck just rolled his eyes.

"You have a temper, young man," she narrowed her small piggy eyes. Puk just crossed his arms plastering his favorite 'I don't give a shit what you think' look on his face and waited for the lecture. "I like it."

"Huh?"

"What's your range?"

"Hum," he glanced around uncomfortably. Just the fact that he knew what his range was prove enough that he had become a pussy. "A2 to G4, but I can go higher."

She nodded. "That will do. You're the new lead male."

"What?!"

Glasses trembled on that one, with both Puck's and Finn's loud perfectly synchronized screech (Puck sounded like a badass, _of course_, but Finn screamed like a little girl). All the Gleeks were whispering in shocked horror, glancing from him to Finn and the dark and cloudy veil of fury surrounding him.

"You can't do that!" Finn claimed. "Do something Mr. Shue!"

"Lillian," he took a few steps toward her. "Finn is usually the male lead," he informed her and glanced at Puck. "And while Puck is very talented too, we don't give the parts offhandedly."

"You are insane," she spitted, gripping Puck's arm and shaking him. "Can't you see it? He's pure gold!"

"No offence, but could you please stop shaking me?" Puck requested awkwardly.

"You haven't heard either of them sing," Shue countered. "And I'm the director, I call the shots."

Lillian narrowed her eyes once again and puckered. She caned through the distance between her and Shue and came to stand in front of him, never breaking eye contact and dragging Puck with her. Panicking, Puck mouthed a silent "Help me!" to Rachel, who was as shocked like everyone else and also a little afraid of coming in between what the lady wanted and her.

"Do you remember 1997 Nationals?" she asked fiercely calm.

"Yeah, it was my senior year and the first year I got the male lead," he frowned trying to get where she was going.

"Can I please go back with the guys now?" Puck pleaded. He went unnoticed though as Lillian and Shue were immersed in their conversation.

"And up until then, who was the male lead?"

"Andrew Lee."

"Seriously, this is awkward--" he tried miserably again.

"And why did I give you the lead?" she asked again with a victorious glint in her eyes.

"Because I had _the spark_," Shue's face was illuminated in realization as he turned his head to stare at Puck so fast there was a crack.

But the cracking and Shue's possible paralysis were far from Puck mind though. It was more pressing the fact that Shue had now joined Lillian Adler in the creepy staring at Puck like he had grown another head and he was now doubly good looking.

"Excuse me!" Finn cut in impatiently and Puck could not have been more grateful because he diverted the full attention of the two toward him. "What's going on?"

Shue cleared her throat as if to come out of whatever epiphany-esque daze had taken over him. "I think given the circumstances," Lillian nudged his side encouraging him. "We should have another throwdown, this time between Finn and Puck."

Another collective gasp. "No way in hell," Puck shook his head determined.

"What's up, Puckerman? You afraid?" Finn snickered.

Puck had to bit his tongue till it bled in order to stop himself from snapping. He was not talking to Finn and he sure as hell was not having a diva off versus him.

Of course, Lillian had other plans. "He's not afraid of you, you giant! He'll beat you!" she promised frantically as she gripped Puck's arm tighter. His fingers were starting to numb. "I'll coach you personally," she turned and beamed at him with a crazy glint in her eyes that could beat Rachel's every time.

"I don't really have time--" He tried to refuse as civilly as he could.

"You'll make time!" she pocked his chest with her surprisingly bony finger. "If it's the last thing I ever do, you'll get the lead!"

"Stop pocking me!" he shoved her hand away. "I told you. NO. WAY," he stressed the words as if he were talking to a very dense and stupid child.

Her left eye started twitching. Puck was officially freaked now.

"Okay," Shue stepped in and Puck took his chance to get away from the crazy old lady. "We can't force him, Lillian," he told her, and then stared longingly at Puck. "But I want you to consider it Puck," he half smiled. "Finn could use a little healthy competition."

Seriously, _where _had the guy been lately? Did he really think Puck's face was regularly bruised because he tripped on doors all the time? Had he not witnessed Babygate front row? The freaking tension between Finn and Puck could be cut with a freaking butter knife, and Shue insisted they publicly competed for the male lead? And he had the gut to call that healthy? Did he want Puck dead?

Because that's what was going to happen if he took Finn's parts. Puck would die a slow and painful death, and this time it wasn't even his fault. Puck may be glad that the secret was out and that he got to be the dad of his baby, but he wasn't happy with taking Finn's stuff and Glee male lead was his. He wasn't going to go and pour salt on the open would.

Except he dreamt every night of Rachel giving this look where she just said I believe in you and you're not a looser and you can handle a solo and in the dream Puck felt good by being stared at like that. Maybe if he said yes, she would look at him like that for real.

"Fine," he growled staring defiantly at Finn.

It was _on_.

(Puck was _so_ dead).

* * *

"Rachel wait up," Finn called after her as she left the choir room.

She quickly checked around and saw Quinn talking to Lillian Adler and Mr. Shue still inside the choir room, so she moved a few inches away from the door so she wouldn't see her talking to Finn.

"Yes, Finn? What can I do for you?" she asked with a big smile on her face.

"I was wondering if you could help me out, you know," he smiled goofily coming closer to her. "With my song for the throwdown."

"Oh," Rachel fidgeted lightly, playing with the hem of her skirt. "I don't know," she winced. "I don't think it'd be politically right if I, the female lead, help you prepare for the part. It would seem a little biased."

"Puck's gonna be helped by Adler, it's fair square," he shrugged, inching closer to her. "C'mon," he said huskily and Rachel felt shivers down her spine. "I really miss us hanging out."

She really did think about it and all the implications her helping Finn could entail. On one side, Quinn would get upset and it could be awkward between them, especially considering both Quinn's and her own history with Finn and the fact that the lived under the same roof. Noah wouldn't be happy either, or at least she thought so. They hadn't really talked of where they stood, but Rachel was sure they were somewhat friends. Would he see it a personal betrayal if she sided with the guy who beat him up almost everyday and was running against him for the male lead?

But just because she helped him didn't mean she was on his side. Really, Rachel was as objective as anyone could be in her situation: both Finn and Noah were her friends and she wished them both well. Had Noah asked for her help before, she wouldn't have objected. Finn just happened to ask first.

So she told herself that and clung to her somewhat reasonable excuse as to why she was agreeing to get together with Finn at his house after Quinn and Puck left her tonight. Of course, she wouldn't be telling them that, they had enough on their plate as it was, they didn't need her to complicate things further. She'd just tell them she needed to consult a book on the public library and leave them to their business. It was really for their own benefit that was lying to them.

Right?

Right.

* * *

"Oh, Noah."

"I don't want to hear it," he gritted out as he brushed past her and entered her house.

"But I really think--"

"Don't."

"It looks really bad!" Rachel insisted, painfully staring up at his face. "I wished you would just--"

Rolling his eyes, Puck held her lips closed with his index and his thumb, invading her personal space. "We have a deal Berry," he reminded her, trying to ignore the physical response produced by his awareness of being _this_ close to Rachel and be touching the lips that tormented his dreams. "I don't wanna talk about it, so _we_ don't talk about it. Ring a bell?"

She nodded, silently gazing into his eyes.

Puck knew just how bad he looked, he didn't need her or anybody pointing it out. After Finn had made sure Puck wasn't Quinn's ride that day –which really wasn't all that hard to figure out since he had wrestling practice after Glee, but whatever- Puck found him waiting for him by his truck in parking lot, alone. It was unusual –Finn preferred to beat him when he was surrounded by his two pals; the more the merrier-, and Puck had stupidly thought that maybe he wanted to talk instead of bang his head to the ground. He'd been wrong of course.

Worst part was that Finn seemed more frustrated than usual by Puck's resolution of taking what he got without returning not one bit, which ultimately led to his getting even more pissed off than he already was. He realized he'd gone too far when he pushed Puck to his truck and he hit his head, leaving him momentarily foggy. Finn mumbled something Puck didn't quite get (and he wasn't dumb enough to think it may have been "sorry") before he made his quick getaway.

It was only a few minutes after he'd been left alone that his head cleared completely and he felt the warm thickness of blood traveling down his forehead. Great, now he had to go to the emergency room.

So there he stood in front of Rachel with a patched up two inches red line over his left eyebrow, still holding her mouth closed even though she hadn't made any attempt to break free. Slowly she raised her hand like she was in the middle of class or something, and sighing Puck let her go and backed two steps away from her.

"Is it going to leave a scar?" she whispered.

"No," he shook his head. "Doctor said it was superficial."

Rachel sighed in relieve, and stared up at him giving him her deer in the headlights look. "I know you want me to stay out of it, but this is going too far," she said lamely. "They could hurt you really bad."

He looked away. He just couldn't stand the look of pain she was giving him. "It's going to be fine," he assured her. "He's gonna get tired sooner or later and it'll all be Okay," he lied, both to her and himself.

Rachel shook her head and reached to squeeze his hand pleadingly. "Do something," _or I will._

Puck got the lingering meaning of the sentence and stared menacingly at her. "If you so much as say a word to Finn or the others about this," he threatened as he backed her against the wall. "I'll tell everyone you have a mole on your left boob and how I got introduced to it during our short couple-y week."

She gasped sharply and crossed her arms over her chest as if to protect herself from Puck's nonexistent x-ray vision. "You wouldn't!"

He grinned smugly, happy with succeeding at turning her mind on a different direction. "Don't try me."

"You are being completely ridiculous," she censured him visibly flustered. "All I was trying to do was help you," Rachel un-sandwiched herself from between the wall and him, making sure there was arm length distance between them. "And you _wished_ you were introduced to my mole when we were dating," she sneered haughtily.

"You got that right, babe," he winked smugly.

His amusement only grew as he watched her face and neck turn a very becoming shade of pink. Puck wondered if her blushing would extend down her neck to the rest of her body, and she must have guessed what he was thinking by his look, because she got pinker and her breathing became more agitated. Puck grinned. It was so easy to fluster Berry.

"You're impossible," she stuttered and stomped to the kitchen.

"What's up with her?" Quinn asked curious as she slowly downed the stairs.

"She's pointing out my flaws instead of my many virtues," he shrugged.

"Uh-huh," she rose her brow letting him know that no, she didn't buy his shit. Then Quinn noticed the red line on his forehead. "Do you want to like, talk or something?"

"Nope," he shook his head.

"Is it going to leave a mark?" she asked joining him by the door.

"No," he frowned. "But that's what Berry asked," his frown got deeper. "And what the lady doctor first told me," his scowl instantly turned into a smug smirk. "Guess the ladies just don't want to see all this handsomeness get damaged."

"Did you get a concussion?" Quinn asked slowly. "Because you're all black and blue and trust me, that's _far_ from handsome."

Puck rolled his eyes. He knew he was right. "Whatever. Can we go now?"

"Sure. Bye Man Hands!" she called sweetly into the house.

"Bye Quinn," Rachel hummed from the kitchen.

It was quiet drive downtown and Puck was thankful for that. The thought of Quinn pulling a Rachel Berry and having a severe case of verbal diarrhea was something he could not handle at the moment. With all that was going on lately –the beat ups, the throwdown and more specially, the place they were going to now- the last thing he needed was dealing was Quinn's particular brand of bitchiness.

Truth was, he was tired. He used to be angry at Finn when he whined about how tiring it was being a teen dad and carry with all the responsibilities, but he was right. Puck was constantly on the go, he had too many activities and while he enjoyed most of them (school and basketball were pure torture) there was still a good deal of energy drain out involved to all of them. But it wasn't just physical tiredness, it was emotional too, and that was really the worst of it. He was tired of Finn's glaring and Matt pretending to beat him when he might as well be fondly strocking him –if the guy didn't want to beat him up because he felt he owed Puck one for keeping his mouth shut about him and Mercedes, then why didn't he cut the show off?-; he was tired of watching at a distance how Quinn sometimes stopped in the middle of a sentence or walking or whatever to touch her rounded belly because the baby –_his_ baby- was kicking her and she got that silly smile that had him wanting to rush over her and feel the baby kick too so that they could share her for at least one time, but he knew he couldn't, or shouldn't, because they weren't together and he didn't want to piss her off, which would make him feel guilty and bring on more emotional tiredness.

He was also tired of every-freaking-body giving him the stink eye at school, and of the whispers and the hushed conversations that ended mysteriously when he was near by, of the teachers giving him both pity and disgusted look –he _had_, after all, knocked up his best friend's girl.

And he couldn't sleep, and when he did he would dream of Rachel and it wasn't even the fun dreams, no. It was just her, and smiles and words like you're very talented and I believe in you and a lot of cheesy crap that made him feel good in the dream but had him moping all day long because the dreams were just dreams and Rachel was miles away from him.

Plus, he realized he'd been particularly angsty lately. He just felt pissed off all the time (except when he was hanging out with Quinn and Rachel, and thank God for that. He'd seen Quinn get violent and it wasn't pretty).

"You know that stick that's been up to your ass lately?" Quinn asked, paling slightly when they pulled over in the parking lot. "Remove it," she ordered curtly, anxiously stroking her belly. "I don't want to scare them off."

He sighed and nodded, because he knew Quinn was just as tired as he was.

Puck helped her out of the truck and –completely out of character- held her hand as they both stared at the building in front of them. For the past week she'd done nothing but talk about it, she had taken notes from the endless files they had sent them to look over and had made several good choices, while Puck curtly nodded or growled or just plainly barked at her. And the time had come and Quinn was frozen like she'd been doused with a dozen of slushies and Puck had to do the dragging.

Big, bold letters on the glass door read Rivers House, Adoption Services.

* * *

Rachel plastered her Broadway smiled upon her face before she hit the doorbell. Not a minute later –had he been waiting by the door?- Finn opened the door and greeted her with the warmest smile she'd seen in him in the past few weeks.

"Hi Finn," she greeted starting to get lost in his eyes.

"Hi," he helped her in resting one of his hands on the small of her back. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"It's nothing really," she assured him, starting to feel anxious again. Hesitating only a little, she looked around. "Is your mother home? I'd like to say hello."

"She's visiting a friend, she won't be home for a couple of hours at least," he smiled walking her to the living room.

"Oh, that's-- that's nice," she nodded and sat at the coach next him. "So do you have a song in mind?"

* * *

Quinn had been the one to pre approve the couples they were meeting today, given Puck's insisting they all sucked and weren't good enough to have his baby. Their adviser, Arlene Whatshername had told them that was completely normal and that in time they would found the right couple and all those feelings of confusion and uncertainty would just go away, but Quinn wasn't so sure Puck was ever reaching that point.

They had met five couples and he had been painfully resolute to bring out the dirt in them. If they had pets, would they give them away if the baby was allergic? Were they going to raise her in the city or the country? Could they afford collage for her? Did they plan on adopting any more children? What was their extended family like? Did they drive stick or automatic? Jews or Christians? Who was staying home with the baby? Did either of them had siblings? Would they still have her if the baby came out with one of those exclusive Jewish illnesses Quinn was so worried about?

It went on and on for like two hours. At the end, he was firmly set that they should just keep looking, totally dismissing Quinn's statements that she liked some of the couples and that she would like to consider it further.

There was only one more couple to go and Quinn was frankly done with it. Puck was too impossible to reason with.

"Hum, Quinn?" Arlene called poking her head through the barely opened door. The woman refused to look at Puck: the boy, with his dark, satanic looks, was simply terrifying. "I'm sorry but the last couple decided to go," she said apologetically. "They said they didn't want to disturb you… with all the yelling and cursing you two were hum _busy_ with."

"Happy now?" she slapped Puck's arm.

"You mean that two confrontation-phobic pussies scattered away? Damn right I am," he crossed his arms over his chest and bowed his head to the side just to make his point sink deeper. "Our baby is gonna have a temper and if they can't handle that--"

"I can't believe you would do this to me. We can't take care of a baby," Quinn stressed harshly. "The sooner you get that through that thick head of yours we can start making the right choices."

"Shut up."

"Hum--" Arlene cut in again.

"Yes?" Quinn snapped impatiently.

"There's another couple," she said. "I know you didn't pre approve them, but they happen to be here and they fit with the criteria you followed with the rest. Would you like to meet them?"

Quinn sighed. "Sure. What do we have to loose?"

Twenty minutes later, as she cried on Puck's shoulder, Quinn wished she'd said no.

* * *

Rachel took pride in being determined. Really, if you didn't have the guts to go after what you wanted and stick to it no matter what, then why were you alive in the first place? People who were destined to greatness didn't get there out of luck, it took determination and perseverance not to waver when things got rough and lots of optimism to survive when it felt like you just weren't going to make it. The reward, of course, was finally getting to where you wanted to be going in the first place, and feeling the pure bliss of knowing it was perfect and that you deserved it after all the hard work.

So as she made out with Finn on his living room couch, Rachel refused to let her mind wonder to inappropriate places, like, for instance, how guilty she was feeling, or how she wasn't going to be able to look at Quinn in the eye, or how Finn was squashing her, and so it went.

She just focused on returning the kiss (putting to practice all the techniques she'd learnt from Noah) and on how sweet Finn tasted –he'd had a cherry lolliepop before they started making out- and how this was what she had wanted since the minute he joined Glee.

But instead of imagining the spectacular future they would be having as boyfriend and girlfriend, Rachel kept looking back on all those times Finn had broken her heart and chosen Quinn over her every time, even before he had a baby to worry about, and how he'd -intentionally or not- played with her emotions. It was wrong of her to be thinking that as he laid his sweet ministrations on her, and Rachel felt terrible about it, but what did that mean?

Defying Gravity started playing and she unconsciously thanked her stars for the distraction as she crawled out under Finn and fished her phone out of her purse. When she saw who was calling, Rachel couldn't suppress the massive shiver that traveled down her spine, trembling out of guilty.

"Hi Noah," she greeted shakily. Next to her, Finn sat up straighter and paid extra attention to the conversation.

"Dude, Berry, where are you?" he sounded extremely annoyed and a little freaked.

"Uh-- at the library," she lied bold faced.

"Whatever. Can you come over?" Puck practically begged her. "It's Quinn."

Her back stiffened. Rachel did not like his tone. "Something happened?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "She got upset and now she's locked up in her room and she won't let me in. I-- I don't know what to do."

He sounded so miserable Rachel couldn't help to bring her hand to rest over her heart and sorrowfully feeling it skip a beat.

"I'll be right there, I promise."

She turned to Finn to meet his scowl. "I have to go," Rachel considered the possibility of laying on to him as a form of apology how her life was now tightly bound to Quinn's and Noah's and how she just couldn't leave them hanging when there was something she could do to alleviate their pain.

But then she realized, Finn didn't have a say in the situation in any way. He'd made sure of that every time he glared at Quinn and punched Noah's face.

"See you tomorrow?" Finn asked when she reached the door.

Rachel left without giving him an answer.

* * *

"Noah."

She found him sitting on the hallway floor leaning his back to Quinn's closed door. He stood up immediately.

"She totally freaked at the adoption agency," he told her gravely. "It was--" he stopped in the middle of the sentence, narrowing his eyes and leaning closer to her. Then he scowled. "Berry," he gritted out. "Is that a hickey?"

Rachel automatically reached to touch the spot on her neck Finn had sucked in intensely before. "No," she lied desperately. "It was a mosquito."

"On the library?" Puck asked curtly. When she openly nodded, he just couldn't take it. "On winter, Berry?"

All she did was open and close her mouth like a fish out of water. It didn't take Puck long to guess who was responsible for that hickey. There was only one guy Rachel would be so eagerly be making out with so soon after the Hank fiasco and that guy was Finn. Puck was sure they'd been together when he called her earlier (the beast within him demanded a bloodshed). His gut never failed him.

"Rachel you just--" Puck rubbed his face frustrated. "Can you put on a turtleneck or some shit?" he said coldly, slicing daggers into her with his green gaze. "Quinn doesn't need to see that right now."

Rachel nodded wordlessly and scattered to her own room down the hallway, her cheeks a very ugly shade of red. Bare minutes later she emerged wearing a black turtle neck. Avoiding eye contact, she softly knocked on Quinn's door.

"Quinn? It's me, Rachel," when she only got a few sniffles as response, Rachel reached for the front pocket of her skirt and took out a set of keys. "My parent's keep the spares in the cookie jar; I got them on my way up." She explained as she inserted the key on the lock and they heard a click.

Quinn had her back on them and laid on her side, curled up on the bed. Rachel approached her slowly but determined to reach her destinations and sat next to her while Puck took seat on the vanity.

"It was horrible," Quinn said in between sobs. Rachel looked at Puck, who in turn tossed her a box of tissues, which she caught gracefully. She handed one to Quinn.

_One hour earlier._

The couple was introduced and Mr. and Mrs. Dumont. They were both tall and handsome; she was blond and slender and he was lean and very cool looking. They lived in Lima. He had his own UPS store and she was a kindergarten teacher. They wanted a baby. They wanted _their_ baby.

But there was one problem. Mrs. Dumont -Clair- was Quinn's sister.

"What are you doing here?" Quinn asked shakily, immediately standing up and moving behind Puck.

"Quinnie," Clair said lamely trying to approach her. One of Puck's satanic looks told her it wasn't wise to do so. "I'm so sorry."

Quinn shook her head. "Go away. I don't want to see you."

"Please," the older Fabray begged taking one brave step closer to her. "I know what I did was wrong. I should have helped you when you asked me instead of doing what daddy told me to do."

"But you didn't," her eyes glittered with unshed tears. "I called you, I had nowhere to stay, and you blew me off."

"I'm sorry," Clair was crying at this point. "I was so- so angry."

Quinn's eyes slid daggers into her sister's. "Angry? That's the best you can come up with?"

Clair's sobs were heartbreaking, but not as much as Quinn's shaking behind Puck. "I can't get get pregnant," Clair admitted miserably sad.

You could hear a pin fall to the floor.

"We tried and tried," she went on. Her husband held her hand tightly. "And then mom tells me you're having a baby and I was trying _so_ hard," she slapped her hand over her chest, the tears flowing down her cheeks. "And you with one stupid mistake go and end up having everything I wanted."

"I didn't ask for this," Quinn chocked out.

"I know that, but I couldn't help it. I pushed you away when I should've helped you--" the woman approached closer. Feeling Quinn stiff against his back Puck warned her off with one look. "Quinnie--"

"Don't call me that!"

"I'm so sorry! But I want to make it right," she assured her with a smile curving her lips. "I want to make it right for you and the baby."

Puck paused his glaring for a moment to process what he thought the lady was saying.

"Steve and I are prepared to be parents," her smile grew wider. "We want to take her in."

"Are you crazy?" Puck spitted. "You can't ask her that."

Clair was taken aback by him, but she chose to ignore him and focus her hope filled attention on her sister.

"I won't give you my baby," Quinn told her in a small voice. "Just the fact that you're here asking proves that you don't care about my feelings."

"Go away," Puck stared at them until Clair left the room crying desperately being dragged by her husband. "Quinn?"

He turned around to be met by her pained expression, the tears starting to escape the corners of her eyes. Without one word, he held her tightly as she let it all out.

"I'm so sorry, Quinn," Rachel told her wholeheartedly as she stroked her blond hair.

She'd repeated that a few times now, it was really all comfort words she could come up with.

They were still in Quinn's bed, only that Rachel was sitting against the headboard and Quinn's head was resting in her lap. She'd stopped crying a while before, but her breathing was still rough and she was nowhere near Okay. Puck was sitting by the vanity directly in front of them. He'd remained silent the whole time.

But then again, all Quinn needed right now was to be laying right there with Rachel and Puck, trying to cling to feeling of home and safe that kept trying to slip away.

* * *

"Fantastic!" Lillian clapped her hands enthusiastically. "You will _destroy_ Frankenteen with that song," she said victoriously happy.

"Really?" Puck said unsure putting down his guitar and leaving his stool. "Don't you think it needs like some back vocals or a choreography?"

She shook her head and dismissed his concerns with a lazy wave. "Trust me, in all the years I have coached young talents I've never seen one like yours."

"Cool," Puck said dreamily. He now knew why Rachel demanded her talent was praised more often: it felt really good. He got some of it at work, but Lillian was like a professional, so her opinion was more important.

They were in the auditorium and the band was just leaving. They'd been practicing for the past hour and a half and he had reached the notes she wanted spot on. It had took them a while to balance up though since she liked to yell and he liked to yell back and she was also obsessed with pocking him with her cane when she got pissed, and that pissed him off, but they still got there in the end.

* * *

Rachel winced at the look of the hickey. It looked so disgusting. It was red, big and boldly stamped in the middle of her neck. She couldn't believe she'd been stupid enough to let Finn do that to her.

Well, it's not like he'd asked her permission, he'd just gone for it in the middle of their make out session last night and done it. Rachel honestly didn't realize of what he'd done until Noah pointed it out, which was all the worst, because he'd sounded so mad about it, and why wouldn't he be? After all, she and Quinn were friends now and friends don't tryst with their friend's exs. Surely, he'd noticed the hypocrisy on the situation and felt bad for Quinn.

_That's_ why he kept snapping at her and why he acted all doom and gloom around her.

She grimaced as she gently stroked the reddened patch of skin, it was too sensitive and frankly, Rachel just couldn't come up with a reason why guys would intentionally do that. It looked terrible.

Rachel remembered that Noah shared her view in that particular manner. He liked kissing her neck a lot (the spot behind her ear was very well treated that one week they were dating) and so, logically, she'd asked him not to mark her because it wasn't that cold yet and she didn't want to have to parade around with scarves and turtlenecks. Without interrupting his heavenly ministrations, Noah had assured her he'd never even think of doing such a thing –she believed the words he'd used were, in fact, 'your skin's too hot to mess up with it'- which she was endlessly glad for, since that particular make out session lacked nothing in intensity and she didn't have to deal with any sort of posterior branding.

Fixing up her turtleneck, she gave herself one last look over the bathroom mirror. She'd decided to go with a white turtleneck under a denim jumper with matching white pantyhose and shinny black flats. To add a touch of color, Rachel wore a red headband to crown her silky chocolate waves. She didn't care what Kurt said about her outfit, she did not look like a child fresh out of elementary school in the sixties.

(Plus the jumper was really short and it fitted tightly around her waist. Everybody thought her ridiculously short skirts were accidental and that Rachel really didn't realize they were lacking length, but they were all sadly wrong. She knew very well her legs were her best physical asset and how those skirts showed them off).

(And Noah had once mentioned when they were dating that the short schoolgirl skirts with the knee highs were totally hot).

Rachel had meticulously avoided Finn the next day after they made out. It was hard, yes, but it was just a matter of choosing the right hiding places –the girl's facilities, the library, the closet in the choir room and the bleachers. She was positive she'd succeeded, but they had Chemistry together and he wasn't all that interested in doing the assignment the teacher had handed over –not that he ever shown any interest in that class before. He spent the whole hour texting her, trying to get her attention, throwing notes at her and sitting next to her shoving away her lab partner to ask her what was up.

She'd been saved by the bell, but not for long. Finn had longer legs after all and he could catch up with her pretty fast.

"Rach, what's wrong?" he asked as he intercepted her way to the restroom. "You've been avoiding me all day."

"No, I haven't," she shook her head forcefully. "I was busy."

"You climbed out the second floor bathroom window because I was waiting for you by the door," he pointed out frowning deeply.

Oohps.

"I think we should like, talk about last night," he said humbly.

"I do too," she sighed and reached out to grab his hand. "Listen Finn--"

"Will you go out with me tonight?"

"Wh-- what?" Rachel chocked out.

"Like a date-date," he specified in case she didn't get it.

Now, Rachel could honestly say there had been less than a handful of times she'd been rendered completely and utterly speechless. She was mentally prepared to face and act upon any situation entrusted to her (and if she wasn't, which was totally understandable because no one was perfect, she could always resort to her acting skills and improvise). But right then and there, as Finn asked her out? It all failed her.

Her sixth sense went havoc immediately and t didn't take her long to find out why. Several feet away from them, Rachel caught a glimpse of a tall mohawked boy standing out in the middle of the crowd of students (She didn't wonder why it was that she could tell when he was near -probably just a side effect from all his years of bullying her- but it just felt natural for her to do it).

Her atention was then again focused on the the boy before her. He was what she'd always wanted, but he was also the one that glared at Quinn every single day, making her _know _he despised her and who made her cry every night and he was also the one who beat Noah and hurt him not just physically.

It came to her that Finn couldn't see past his own pain. He didn't see Quinn and Noah struggling to find a reason to get out of bed every morning. He was blind.

"No," she answered his previous question.

"Okay," he shrugged. "How 'bout Friday? We could--"

"No Finn, I can't date you," she shook her head. "I like you and you're my friend, but Quinn and Noah are my friends too and being their friend is more important that being with you. I'm sorry," she said softly.

He did not take it well.

(And he was starting to get really good at storming out of places.)

* * *

"I don't want your 'I'm sorry cookies'."

"But I _am_ sorry," Rachel stated as she half run behind him trying to keep up holding a plate with her famous cookies.

"And why are you even apologizing?" he growled. "You did _nothing_ to me," except making out with Finn (bloodshed!).

"I know you think it was reckless of me to risk my friendship with Quinn for Finn, and I think that too!" she assured him. "And it's over with him."

He stopped. Because those little words? Totally turned him on (even more so than the ear piercing battle-cry she'd let out after show night last week and that was majorly hot).

"Really?" he asked letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Rachel nodded enthusiastically. "Why?"

She shrugged. "It didn't feel like I always pictured it would."

"And what's that?"

"Easy and comfortable and right," she smiled shyly. "And hot," she added.

"And it wasn't hot with Finn?" he couldn't believe he was asking that. He, Noah Puckerman, was holding his breath waiting to hear a chick tell him his nemesis didn't get her all worked up.

Rachel just shook her head, avoiding his gaze.

Before he could say or do anything the double doors of the auditorium were opened and Shue poked his head outside.

(Puck was acually thankful they'd been interrupted because really, the urge he had to kiss her senseless was to big to fight back all on his lonely own).

"Are you coming in guys? We're about to start."

They nodded and followed after him.

Finn was already up in the stage with Mercedes and Tina and the band, talking all secretive. The rest of the gleeks were sitting on one side of the aisle, minus Artie who was parked in the middle of it, and Quinn who was sitting on the other side.

Strangely she was not by herself and even what was even stranger, she was surrounded by the wrestling team guys and Gertie and she didn't look like she needed -or wanted- to be rescued.

"What are you guys doing here?" Puck asked dumbstruck as he and Rachel approached them.

"Well," Tom looked at the others. "You've been pretty pissed off all week and we figured it's because you're like, being outcast by the outcasts."

"And coach said we had to show support for each other so we can _bond_ and stuff," Luke added.

"Plus we saw the video about the battle between Glee Club and the drama club and you guys totally kicked ass," Jake nodded. "We don't want to miss it if it happens again."

"I think you're cute," Gertie admitted dreamily.

"As much as Noah appreciates the support you're showing, I assure you there is going to be no altercation between Noah and Finn," Rachel stepped in before he could thank them for being there. "They are both mature young adults."

"Alright everyone!" called Lillian's voice as she approached the area they were all sitting. "Everyone picked their sides?" she questioned. "Left if you go for Hudson, right if you go for Puckerman."

"We have to pick sides?" Rachel asked outraged. "Mr. Shuester, that is not fair!"

"There are no sides, you guys can sit where you like," Shue said loud and clear. But the thing was, Finn's people was on one side of the aisle while Puck's were on the other, and it did not look like they'd be mixing up . Only Artie was in the middle.

"Let's just get this over with," Puck growled sitting next Quinn.

Rachel just stood there, being closely watched by everyone. Puck knew what was coming. She was going to have fit over the whole thing and have all of them sit together so she would have to deflect from the real issue and avoid making a choice.

But he was wrong, because Rachel had picked a side long ago.

(And it felt _so good_ that it was next to him).

The band started playing and Mercedes and Tina started aahing in the back of the stage.

Oh sweet lungs don't fail me now  
Your burning has turned into fear  
Drills me in my every step,  
I'm moving quick but you're always on my heels

Just one more breath, i beg you please  
Just one more step, my knees are weak  
My heart is sturdy but it needs you to survive  
My heart is sturdy but it needs you...

Breathe, don't you wanna breathe  
I know that you are strong enough to handle what i need  
My capillaries scream, there's nothing left to feed on  
My body needs a reason to cross that line  
Will you carry me there one more time?

I have reason to believe that i have victories to taste  
I can feel them on my teeth, upon my lips and in my chest  
I can roll them on my tongue, they are more subtle than defeat  
I feel the tension in my lungs and every move is filled by my resolve to

Breathe, don't you wanna breathe  
I know that you are strong enough to handle what i need  
My capillaries scream, there's nothing left to feed on  
My body needs a reason to cross that line  
Will you carry me there one more time?

Damn. Finn had backing vocals _and_ a choreography. All Puck had was his guitar and a stool. Double damn.

Everybody clapped and cheered excitedly and Puck had to admit it had been a really good performance (Finn was, after all a good singer. He didn't had the lead just because he joined Glee first) and even though it was all very enthusiastic and shit, it was also like, expected or something. Finn didn't have that thing that got you amazed and on tenterhooks (and he honestly think no one but Rachel -and maybe Mercedes- had that on the team) and got you totally into the song.

Puck, on the other hand had the element of surprise. He'd only sang two solos in front of the gleeks and he'd rocked both.

(Plus he had an acustic guitar and acustic guitars were totally hot).

In between a tide of applause and loud cheers (coming solely from his side, obviously) Puck got up and walked to the stage just as Finn was coming out. He quickly run a few things with the band and then took his stool and placed it in the middle of the stage. Rachel's voice chanted in his head '_show time_'.

Unchain my heart, baby let me be  
Unchain my heart 'cause you don't care about me  
You've got me sewed up like a pillow case  
But you let my love go to waste so  
Unchain my heart, oh please, please set me free

Rachel was smiling up at him and singing the lyrics under her breath, swinging as he expertly strummed the chords.

Unchain my heart, baby let me go  
Unchain my heart, 'cause you don't love me no more  
Ev'ry time I call you on the phone  
Some fella tells me that you're not at home so  
Unchain my heart, oh please, please set me free

I'm under your spell like a man in a trance  
But I know darn well, that I don't stand a chance so  
Unchain my heart, let me go my way  
Unchain my heart, you worry me night and day  
Why lead me through a life of misery  
When you don't care a bag of beans for me  
So unchain my heart, oh please, please set me free.

"Marvelous!" Lillian jumped her seat. "Definitely the winner!"

Puck's side cheered a lot (Matt, Mike and Finn were not happy as they glared at Tom, Jake and Luke. Where they thinking that maybe, next time they beat Puck up, the fight could more fair on his side?), Rachel and Quinn were holding hands and jumping (how exactly was it that Quinn could pull it off with her size was a mystery for him), and Gertie was drooling.

Shue wasn't impressed he'd utterly rocked the house. He'd seen the talent in Puck before Lillian told him he had _the spark_. Truth be told, he was proud both Finn and Puck had male lead material. The better the team was the more chances they had to win.

Artie was cheering too, and so were some of the other gleeks, only more down toned. They were still on Finn's side.

But Puck was tired. "I don't want the lead," he said loud and clear staring at Shue. "Can't handle it right now."

Shue smiled knwingly and nodded. "Maybe some other time?"

"Hell, yeah."

Lillian Adler was outraged. He didn't care though. Because that look he always dreamt Rachel was giving him?

He was definitely getting it now.

* * *

**Lillian Adler is actually dead on the show, but I planned the chapter before I checked that up, so I guess it's slightly AU, but well.**

**I'm having a Valentine's day chapter and I'm struggling with the songs. I really wanted everyone to have their own song, and while Puck and Rachel's are already casted, I'm not sure about the rest. So, I'm taking suggestions from you guys. tell me if there's a love song you'd like me to include and, if possible, who would you like to sing it.**

**anyway, thank you so much for reading and please, leave a review! (they really are love)**


	7. Romantically challenged

**Hello everybody! I hope you're all happy to be reading this, just as I am for writing it.**

**Thank you for all of your reviews! they warm my heart.**

**I don't own Glee or any of the following songs: "One", "From the bottom of my broken heart", "Crying", "Kiss n tell", "My heart will go on", "Here with me", "I'm not your boyfriend baby", "Playground love", "At last", "Lovesong", "The real thing", "Ring of fire" and "I wish I were in love again".**

**Also, I noticed a lot of hate towards Finn, Matt and Mike, and while rightfully placed, I want to make it clear that I don't hate them. Do I think Finn's a total tool in the show? Yes, and I am enhancing that particular streak of his character a lot in my fic, but I don't hate him. So in this chapter you might see another side of him , Matt and Mike. (Though I'm not ready to have them make up, because really, they are douches.)**

**There's another clue for the enigma, guys, hopefully you can get a general idea of what it is with it.**

Chapter seven: Romantically challenged

"Five, six, seven, eight and one, two, three, nononono_no_," Rachel left her place front and centre and walked toward Mike fully resolute.

Mike flinched.

"You're an amazing dancer, Mike," she told him in a beat. "Probably better than everyone in this room. But if I ever again see you going your own way and improvise hence throwing off the entire composition of the choreography, I will personally make sure you knees meet your neck. _Follow the steps_."

He nodded paling significantly as Mr. Schue walked in the room looking particularly bubbly.

"Hey guys, isn't it a great day?" he grinned exhilarated.

"Is Monday, why's that special?" Finn asked confused.

"Every day is a chance to shine, Finn," Rachel corrected him offhandedly. "I personally believe Mr. Schuester optimism is both admirable and a good example for all of us."

"Thank you Rachel," Mr. Schue said truly touched. "Truth be told, I'm happy because this Sunday is Valentine's Day, a day for love and to demonstrate love. So," he looked at every each one of them. "I have a special task for you this week."

They shared knowing looks about what was coming.

"You will each perform a love song of your choosing," he grinned like he was telling them Vocal Adrenalin had been on a terrible accident and they couldn't compete. "You can ask for help with the harmonies, but they have to be solos. I want each and every one of you to be the star of your own number."

Rachel raised her hand and Schue nodded politely toward her. "When will we be performing?"

"I'm gonna split you in two groups," he informed her. "Tina, Finn, Mike, Brittany, Quinn and Kurt will perform on Wednesday and the rest of Thursday."

Rachel raised her hand again. With a growing in annoyance nod from Schue, she spoke her peace. "While I think your initiative is wonderful, Regionals are only five weeks away, and we need to get our songs to the t. We have to prepare three acts and so far we only have decided on one of them. We still have to pick a duet and a group song that represents how we feel about competing."

"Yes, but--"

"We can't afford any more detours," she cut in impatiently. "You want us to dedicate the following week to prepare love songs –which by the way I find it completely predictable given the date- when we could be focusing on our acts."

"Well, I think it's a wonderful opportunity to chill out and relax," Mr. Schue said crossing his arms over his chest.

"To chillax," Finn whispered from the back.

"Chill?" Rachel chocked out. "I will most certainly do no such thing until we get our songs _perfectly_ perfect!"

"Rachel," Schue said with a soothing voice, resting his hand on her shoulder. "This is exactly what I'm trying to avoid."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know how you can get really _determined_ sometimes?" Artie cut in. "It's like you're sucking the will of living out of us. We need a break."

She glared at him. Hard. "We can take a break after we win Nationals," because there was no way _in hell _Rachel would permit them to slack after Regionals. That just wouldn't do.

"I'm with Rachel on this," Kurt declared as he graciously moved toward her. "I am in the middle of a twitter war with one of Vocal Adrenaline's tenors and I just cannot bear the idea of losing against them."

"Also, I think we should add another day to rehearse to our weekly schedule," Rachel suggested forcefully. "Some of us still don't get the choreography," she pointed out staring at Mike.

"Okay, what if I told you we have our duet?" Schue said. "Do you think you could bear with me for this week if we had another song on the sack?"

"Well, that would depend on the difficulty of the song itself--"

"It's Defying Gravity," Schue grinned.

"But that's not a duet," Rachel frowned.

"Which is exactly why we're gonna blew the judges's minds off when they hear you two," he pointed at both Rachel and Kurt "singing it. It's a classic and with our own original twist they will love it. It's perfect."

Kurt gripped Rachel's arm so hard she should have screamed. She didn't though, because she was every bit as stunned by Schue's selection as he was. "Sequins," he gasped.

"So are you in for our Valentine's special?"

Rachel did not oppose this time. She was too busy mentally color-charting the general scheme of the song.

* * *

"I told you I'm practicing," Puck said irritably at the phone he was keeping in place with his shoulder. "No, Berry, I'm not lying to you," a pause. "I don't care you have psychic powers, I'm telling the truth," he puckered (yes, he _puckered_). "Well shame on you if you don't believe me. That makes you a bad Jew."

He tossed his phone over his shoulder aiming for the bed and went back to focus his attention on his game. Next to him Tom shared a look with Jake.

"You shouldn't lie to your girl," Luke said from the other side of the room where he was closely inspecting Puck's CD collection. "They always find out and you end up with a hard on tied to the gym's door," the other three gaped at him. "True story."

"She's not my girl," Puck snorted as he mercilessly slain Tom's guys.

"Cool," Luke whistled. "Mind if I ask her out? Knee highs are _hot_."

"Sure," he shrugged.

"Really?"

"No, my grandpa has a shotgun and I will find you."

"Why don't you just ask her out?" Tom asked fully in touch with his emotions. "Put yourself out of your misery."

"I'm so not having this conversation."

"_Noah, another of your loser friends is here!" _Rebbecca called from downstairs.

He slapped Tom on the shoulder and nodded toward the door as he stood up and passed the joystick to Luke who took on the game. Tom followed him out of his bedroom after doing the same with Jake.

Downstairs they found Artie and his dad waiting in the living room with Rebbecca.

"Hey Mr. Abrams," Puck nodded to Artie's dad. "We got it from here."

"Alright, you boys be good," the older man said as he followed Rebbecca to the front door.

With Tom's help Puck carried Artie and his wheelchair up to his room.

"No offence, but your sister is not very nice," Artie whispered, afraid of her hearing him.

"I know," Puck sighed dejectedly. "I should've smothered her in her crib when I had the chance."

He spent the next hour going through his love song for Glee running details such as notes and harmonies with Artie while Tom, Jake and Luke busied themselves with his x-Box. And the weirdest part, was that he didn't felt weird at all.

Artie had started helping him with his music when Puck approached him a few days after Babygate. With the realization that he was going to be providing for Quinn and their baby from that moment on, Puck found decided to find a job more fitting to his current financial circumstances, which meant he needed Artie's help. He thought he'd have to do some begging to get Artie to agree (which would have totally jeopardized his rep) but he'd been wrong: Artie was actually glad that Puck had taken matters into his own hands and was proud that he had reached for help (he'd said something about that demonstrating personal growth or something). He'd been getting together with Artie every week for a jam session since then.

Tom and the others had just sort of fell into his daily routine. At first he would just return the nod and 'hey man's they gave him at school and have wrestling practice with them. Then they started joking on the lockers room and hanging out at lunchtime or homeroom. Then, they had taken the big leap and showed to show support for his Glee throwdown and after that they had all pretty much became a dependable constant. They would all just get together and hang out, sometimes even with Artie when he –like right now- came to Puck's house to practice.

To say he enjoyed it was a bold faced understatement. It was easier not to think about Finn and the humongous knife he'd stuck in his back when he was hanging out with the guys. Plus, he was kind of tired of being surrounded by chicks all the time, with his mother and sister, Quinn and Rachel he had had about enough of pussy craziness to cover up for a life time supply. He was even starting to like, get in touch with his emotions and he had to goggle to see if you could actually grow a vagina from all that girly exposure.

(Plus, every minute he spent with Rachel was torture. There were only so many cold showers a guy could take).

(And Finn had stopped the beatings since he found out he was closer to the guys on the wrestling team. After a whole week without getting beaten, Puck's face looked totally normal).

Sweet Caroline's soft strumming filled the room and Puck rolled his eyes as he scattered for his phone, ignoring Artie's amused look. "What do you want Berry?"

He closed his eyes and elevated a prayer to Heaven. "Untwist your panties already! I swear, so help me _God_ I will light myself on fire if you don't stop annoying me!" his jaw clenched. Around him the guys were silently chocking on their laughter. "No, you're impossible. No, you are. I can't hear you! I can't hear you!" he annoyingly screamed into the receiver. "Lalalalalalalalalalala! Oh, hey Quinn," he breathed more calmed. "'Sup?"

After he promised Quinn he'd pick up some ice cream and French fries for her, Puck was met with the most stunned looks he'd ever received from Artie.

"You're a child," was all the gleek said sternly.

"He's in love," Jake hummed softly.

"In lust you mean," Luke cut in giving Puck a meaningful look. "I mean the whole librarian look, man--"

"I wasn't kidding about the shotgun," Puck stated as he picked up his guitar and gently put it away.

"Ask her out," Tom advised him. Again. "I'm right, aren't I Abrams?"

Artie nodded, acting cool even when he felt a little overwhelmed that he was being welcomed with ease into the group. While he still liked Finn, Mike and Matt, he disapproved of his methods of punishment for Puck, and having heard his side of the story and viewing how Puck had taken all the crap up thrown his way and still managed to do right to Quinn, Artie just couldn't help siding with him.

"Rachel's irritating and certifiable insane but you're no walk in the park either so I guess you two kinda fit," he elaborated.

"Shh," Puck said. "Can you hear that?"

All four boys became quiet and listened carefully. Artie inspected the door. God forbid the little monster Puck called sister from coming near them.

"It's the sound of your manhood flying out the window! Seriously, cut it out with the chick flick moment."

* * *

"Are you PMSing?"

"_Excuse_ me?" Rachel lashed out, glaring at Quinn.

The pregnant girl just shrugged. "You've been snappy since yesterday and I saw go through a whole pizza all on your own last night."

Rachel sighed and let go of the wheel. She'd just parked her car in the school parking lot. "I have an-- issue."

"What is it?" Quinn leaned closer.

She looked for the right words. Her eloquent vocabulary was wide enough to supply several choices fit for every situation. Nonetheless, all she came up with was "I'm losing my mojo."

Quinn had to bite hard not to laugh. "Oh?"

"It's about the love song we have to perform. I can't do it."

"Of course you can," Quinn smiled. "You have a great voice."

"I know I physically can," Rachel specified. "I just--"

She shut her eyes closed and bowed her head away.

Quinn nagged a little.

"When I sing, I connect with the song," Rachel explained her. "I dig into my soul and find something I can relate, and if there isn't any, I just hear the song and imagine something. I need to believe the song represents me," she stated desperately.

"Okay," Quinn nodded.

Rachel shrugged and half smiled. "I keep trying to find a love song, any love song, to perform, and even though there are so many beautiful ones I'd at one point of my life been thrilled to sing, now I just can't."

An infinite beat passed by before Quinn said anything. "I'm gonna say this as nicely as I can," she warned her before she started. "Cut the crap. You pulled Don't Rain On My Parade out your sleeve with what, twenty minutes notice? And you're sitting here wallowing because you lost your mojo? Who are you?"

"I thought you were going to say it nicely," Rachel snapped curtly.

Quinn rolled her eyes in a very annoyed fashion. "Do you know the words of U2's 'One'?" Rachel nodded, a confused frown setting upon her features. "Good. Sing it."

"What, now?"

"I'm going to prove to you that you're drowning in a glass of water," Quinn nodded. "Now, sing."

_Is it getting better  
Or do you feel the same  
Will it make it easier on you now  
You got someone to blame  
You say..._

_One love  
One life  
When it's one need  
In the night  
One love  
We get to share it  
Leaves you baby__  
__Don't care for it_

"Whoa, you really did lose your mojo!" Quinn exclaimed stunned. "What happened? It was terrible!"

"I don't know what it is!" Rachel whined.

"It was like the worst I have ever heard you sing," she admitted a little too honestly. "Really, that _sucked_."

"Will you stop rubbing it in?" Rachel whined miserably.

"Sorry."

Rachel sighed and played with the hem of her skirt. "I'm sure I'm just going through a phase," she said upping her mood. "I'm nothing if not relentless, and I can't just expect my road up to stardom to be free of any kind of rough patches. This is just a means to an end. I will perform on Thursday and I will most certainly make a wonderful learning experience out of it."

"What about your mojo?"

"Momentary weakness," Rachel stated forcefully. "It's probably the fact that Valentine's Day is coming closer and that I don't have a particular love interest at the moment that's having me second guess myself. But I wouldn't be living up to the feminist's ideals of womanly liberation I so highly preach if I let that frivolous circumstance bother me."

Having given herself her own pep talk, Rachel smiled brightly and emptied the car. Shivering slightly as the sudden cold wind hit her cheeks, Quinn sat stunned for a moment. It was truly remarkable Rachel's ability to talk herself out of her misery and restrain from wallowing.

(And also the way she deflected what the true issue was? It gave a whole new meaning to the word denial.)

* * *

As it usually did, Wednesday rolled in right after Tuesday doomed and with it the first presentation of the Valentine's Glee special. To say it had worked out nice and smooth would have been the mothership of all lies ever told.

Brittany was the first to go.

_From the bottom of my broken heart  
There's just a thing or two I'd like you to know  
You were my first love, you were my true love  
From the first kisses to the very last rose  
From the bottom of my broken heart  
Even though time may find me somebody new  
You were my real love, I never knew love  
'Til there was you  
From the bottom of my broken heart_

Then followed Finn.

_I was cryin' when I met you  
Now I'm tryin' to forget you  
Love it sweet misery  
I was cryin' just to get you  
Now I'm dyin' 'cause I let you  
Do what you do down on me_

Then Tina.

_Never thought that you would be the one  
Acting like a slut when I was gone  
Maybe you shouldn't  
Kiss 'n' tell  
You really should've kept it in your pants  
Hearing dirty stories from your friends  
Maybe you shouldn't  
Kiss 'n' tell_

_Woohha-a-ohooh  
You got a secret  
Woohha-a-ohooh  
You couldn't keep it  
Woohha-a-ohooh  
Somebody leaked it  
And now some sh*ts about to go down_

Then Kurt.

_Love was when I loved you  
One true time I hold to  
In my life we'll always go on_

_Near, far, wherever you are  
I believe that the heart does go on  
Once more you open the door  
And you're here in my heart  
And my heart will go on and on_

Then Quinn.

_Oh I am what I am  
I do what I want  
But I can't hide_

_And I won't go  
I won't sleep  
I can't breathe  
Until you're resting here with me_

_And I won't leave  
I can't hide  
I cannot be  
Until you're resting here with me_

And, last but not least, Mike.

_I'm not your boyfriend, baby,  
I ain't your cute little sex toy,  
I'm not your lion or your tiger,  
Won't be your nasty little boy,  
I'm not your boyfriend, baby,  
__I can't grant your every wish  
I'm not your knight in shining armor,  
So, I just leave you with this kiss _

_You know I rep' this sh__*t,  
I got my hands up on your chest,  
Motherf*ckers best believe it,  
That you're f*ckin' with the best_

_I'm not your boyfriend, baby_

"Stop! Stop!" Mr. Schue cut in from where he'd been slumped in his chair, gaping at the parade of students that had performed before him. The words of Sue Sylvester rang loud in his head '_That was THE most offensive thing I have seen in twenty years of teaching and that includes an elementary school production of Hair.'_ "I'm dumbstruck that this is what you prepared," he elaborated, coming to stand in front of the team. "You hit all the right notes and it's clear that you put a lot of effort on your performances, but your song choice," he shook his head in dread. "When they didn't make me want to slide my wrists," he stared pointedly at Kurt, Quinn and Finn. "or cry like someone had kicked my puppy before my birthday," Brittany fidgeted awkwardly in her seat. "they were plainly not appropriate for Valentine's day. Tina, you should _never _sing that song again," Schue advised gravely. "And Mike?" he stuttered slightly. "I didn't think you had it in you-- All that cursing--"

"We get the point Mr. Schue," Finn cut in before the teacher elaborated further into how offensive their performances were. "We didn't do well. But it's hard to sing about love when you're sad all the time."

Schue closed his eyes in defeat and sighed deeply. "You're right, I'm sorry I was so harsh," he apologized wholeheartedly. "I thought this could help cheer you all up, but I guess I was wrong. We're back on our regular schedule as from tomorrow. We could start with the choreography for Defying Gravity--"

"Hold on, we don't get to perform?" Mercedes jumped from her seat.

"I thought that's what you wanted?"

"Nah-uh. Just because they are romantically challenged don't mean the rest of us don't have it on for the lovey dovie," she crossed her arms to make her point. "I prepared my song and I am singing it!"

"Fine, if the rest of you guys want to perform tomorrow I won't stop you," Mr. Schue accepted, though it was clear in his dejection that he desperately hoped they had chosen merrier songs. "Now, I have an announcement. Due to budget cuts, the school no longer can afford a band for the dance this Saturday, so the guys from the Visual Aids team are going to DJ the whole thing."

Everybody frowned at him, trying to put their collective finger on just why he thought that might interest them. "I swear I went down swinging on this one, but Figgins would not hear reason," he said honestly. "He wants you to perform Somebody to love after the Valentines are chosen at the school dance."

"Why does he keep creating circumstances to enhance our humiliation?" Kurt asked lazily.

"Wasn't the icky goo and sawdust bad enough?" Tina interjected.

"He promised to up our budget," Schue admitted lamely, as if he'd sold his soul to the devil.

Rachel stood and marched beside him ready to assist him. "If being on the receiving end of unjustified bullying has taught me something over the years," Puck winced and muted his growl. "is that no matter how bad it looks or how horrible that picture of you and Jacob Ben Israel in the girls bathroom is, you have to square your shoulders and hold your head high. It's only a matter of time before they realize how wrong they were, really," she preached convinced. "Now, while I make it must to not attend school dances, I'm willing to shove down my personal chagrin and face this enterprise before us."

"Why don't you go to school dances?" Tina asked frowning. "Sometimes they are fun."

Blushing slightly and worrying her bottom lip, Rachel glanced at Puck. "Why don't I attend school dances, Noah?"

He winced visibly. "Because the first time I tossed a drink to your face we were at the eighth grade winter formal."

She nodded corroborating his story. "Nonetheless, I'm putting it behind my back."

"I'm very proud of you Rachel," Schue smiled down to her.

"So am I," she beamed. "And I also wanted to apologize for being so unreceptive to your intention to lighten things up this week. It has come to my attention that drowning in a glass half full of water," she gave a meaningful look to Quinn. "is hardly productive. As a means to prove to you I'm completely into your Valentine's special, not only I am singing tomorrow, but also," she walked briskly to the closet where they kept the instruments, her flats clacking on the floor. Emerging from the depth of the closet, Rachel balanced a tray full of homemade brownies.

Everybody gathered around her to grab one and taste them, while Schue praised her initiative and the kind gesture toward them.

"Show off," Puck whispered in her ear. He reached from behind her to take a brownie (her loud and sudden in take of breath did not go unnoticed by him) and inspected it carefully.

"I'm nothing of the sort," she retorted playfully.

He just smirked and took a bite before he turned around to say something to Artie.

"You don't have song picked yet," Quinn whispered next to her as she went down her third brownie.

"I'm working on it--"

The sound of someone coughing cut her off. Looking up, she saw it was Puck, partially leaning on the piano and with one of his hands around his throat.

"Easy there, Puck," Mr. Schue patted his back to help him but it had the complete opposite outcome.

Puck was evidently chocking, his face turning redder and redder as he struggled to breathe. Schue's patting on the back was not helping and the silly smile he had when he'd first saw his student chocking had flew away to be replaced by a worried impotent stare.

Puck's lean on the piano failed him and he unsteadily landed on the floor, where he barely sat straight. Rachel was gripping on to the tray as if her life depended on it as she heard Quinn's muffled 'Oh my God' and saw Mr. Schuester trying to assist Puck.

"Rachel," she heard Finn speak with dread creeping in. She momentarily glanced toward him and was met with panic in his eyes. "These brownies, they don't have nuts don't they?"

"Of course they do," she breathed unexpectedly annoyed. Puck was chocking and all Finn could do was ask some silly question about the ingredients of her brownies?

Unless…

Finn rushed to Puck and knelt next to him forcing him to sit up straighter and rubbing his chest, Matt following hastily after him. On the mean time, Mike tossed the content of Puck's bag pack on the floor and fished an EpiPen out of the pile of books and folders. With it firmly in his grasp, he leaped through the choir room and handed it to Matt, who expertly removed the gray cap, placed the black tip on Puck's thigh and after a nod form Finn, pressed the tip hard into his leg. He held in place for several seconds before he swiftly removed it. He massaged Puck's thigh at the injection area while Finn whispered something in Puck's ear.

While his green eyes were hidden away by heavy lids, Puck's breathing improved considerably.

Rachel let out the air that had frozen inside her lungs. Startled, she realized she'd dropped the tray long ago and that she and Quinn where holding on to each other's hand for dear life.

"Is he going to be Okay?" Tina asked amongst the dreadful silence that filled the choir room.

Puck chose that moment to moan lamely.

Finn half smiled. "He'll be Okay," he assured them.

Rachel did not partake on the collective sigh of relief that followed his statement. Her full attention was fixated on Puck' –_Noah's_- pained expression.

The feeling at the pit of her stomach as she saw him being carried away to the nurse's by Finn and the others was indescribable. He was barely conscious and he would growl and muffle words under his breath, his limbs loosen. Rachel didn't register following them down the hallway, or Quinn walking briskly next to her, or Kurt and the others whispering desperately. On repetitive track, only one thought clouded her mind.

_You hurt Noah._

It was entirely innocent on her part, but that didn't keep her from feeling like the worst piece of garbage. Noah was only alive because Finn had been quick enough to think what was really making him choke and acting upon it. What if she'd fed him a brownie at her house instead, when neither she nor Quinn knew he was allergic?

Rachel couldn't think of that, it scared her too much.

Twenty minutes later they were all waiting outside the nurse's office where Puck was being examined with Schue by his side. The new nurse actually had a degree, so they knew they were trusting Puck to capable hands. Finn explained to them than Puck's mother had made him, Matt and Mike learn what to do if that particular situation ever presented to them when they were younger, and that Puck usually bounced back stronger than ever, even if a little drowsy and dizzy and particularly moody. Nothing a good night sleep wouldn't cure.

Quinn elbowed her out of her absentmindedness. "I was just asking if Puck was your ride back home," Finn said blushing a little, glancing ever so slightly to Quinn next to her.

"No," Rachel shook her head. "I have my car."

"Okay," he nodded with a goofy smile. "Then I guess the guys and I are taking Puck back home.**"**

"What?" she asked warily.

"Well, I know Quinn doesn't drive stick," he said timidly. "and I don't know if you do, but you still can't carry Puck to his truck so Mike and Matt can help me--"

"That won't be necessary," Quinn cut impatiently, bravely gazing into his eyes. "I already took care of it."

As if choreographed, Tom, Luke and Jake appeared stalking down the hall and approached the two girls. Tom ignored Finn altogether, while the other two glared at him, Matt and Mike.

"I'm sorry I called you," Quinn said smiling at the new arrivals, dismissing Finn completely.

"'S Okay," Jake assured her with a sweet half smile.

The glass door to the nurse's office opened and Schue stepped out rolling Puck in a wheelchair. "He's Okay," he informed them with a tired, yet undoubtedly happy grin. "He just needs some rest."

Everybody (but Finn, Matt and Mike who were awkwardly focusing their attention on their shoes) voiced their happiness and relieve.

"Shut the fuck up," Puck growled, ever the grouch, holding his head with his hands.

"Hey man," Tom punched him slightly on the shoulder.

"Dude, you ate a brownie and you like almost died," Luke remarked.

"And you call yourself a badass?" Jake joked and replaced Schue behind the wheelchair. He started rolling him down the hallway with Rachel.

"Is that his?" Luke asked Mike, who was holding Puck's bag pack. "You mind?" he pointed at it nonchalantly.

With a silent nod, Mike handed it to him.

"Here," Finn said, his voice painfully low, slowly reaching Tom's hand and depositing the keys to Puck's truck.

"Thanks," Tom nodded curtly. He was still the guy who beat the crap out of his teammate and friend. Much nicer, he turned to Quinn. "Are you coming too? I think your friend just ditched you."

She chuckled. "Mr. Schue?"

"Rehearsal is officially over," he admitted. "All of you can go home."

"I just have to get my stuff and Rachel's."

"I'll wait for you outside," Luke told the taking the keys from Tom and starting down the hall to reunite with the others.

Everyone took their leave after that. Finn, Matt and Mike stood together by the nurse's office, the giant elephant flaunting itself around them.

"Dude," Matt shook his head. "We screwed up."

* * *

Schue was surprised the following day to see Quinn waiting for him sitting all by herself at the Spanish classroom first thing in the morning, when she didn't have his class until seventh period. He expected to see Rachel jump from the nearest corner, hence giving Quinn an excuse to be there since the two girls had become certainly close lately, but the short brunette was nowhere to be seen.

It downed on him just as quickly, that they were alone. While he highly regarded each and every single one of his student (and given that he undeniably had a soft spot for his Glee kids) it still pretty much unsettled him when they would seek him out for guidance, partly because it wasn't his job but mostly because he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. True, he had stepped up when they had needed him, offering comfort and advise on numerous times, but it was times like this when he got that feeling on the pit of his stomach which told him to be careful because when they trusted in him, he had a major responsibility on whatever word that came out of his mouth.

"Quinn? Is everything Okay?"

Looking up at him like the little lost girl she was, Quinn shook her head. "No."

Keeping respectful distance, Schue came to a stop and leaned in the row of desks upfront the one she was sitting, patiently waiting for Quinn to start talking.

She breathed in sharply. "When Finn was upset he would come to see you," she started trying to maintain her trademark ice-soft tone of voice. She failed solidly. "You made him feel better about himself and-- _me_-- and the baby--"

Quinn broke down and sobbed miserably. Schue reached down to touch her shoulder but she jerked away. "She was going to be your baby," she half sobbed, half laughed spitefully. "I can't believe I helped your wife lie to you."

"Terri's sick, Quinn," he said softly. "She manipulated both of us, and she shouldn't have put you in that position. I don't blame you."

Her upper lip quivered and the tears flowed more intensely. "I'm so sorry!"

Schue held her like that one time he'd walk in on her and Terri at his apartment and she'd told him he was going to make a great father. He rubbed random patterns on her back until she calmed down and broke away from him.

"My sister wants to raise my baby," Quinn confessed avoiding his eyes.

"How do you feel about that?"

"I'm not ready to be a mom," she admitted rubbing her rounded belly. "I love her," she said simply, more to the child within her than to her teacher. "Clair is ready to be a mom, and I know her, she'd make a good one," she nodded forcefully.

"Are you ready to be an aunt?" Schue inquired sympathetically.

She shook her head like it was the hardest thing she'd ever done.

(And maybe it was.)

* * *

"Again with the cookies, Berry?" Puck smirked comically raising an eyebrow at her.

"These are my 'I'm sorry I so recklessly endangered you life' cookies," Rachel responded in a breath, balancing the tray in front of his nose by his locker. "Feel free to inspect them all you like before you try one. I also have the detailed recipe in case you want to check the ingredients."

Unlike the last time she wanted to swap goods for forgiveness, Puck didn't struggle with her and accepted the tray at once. He noticed she'd replaced the pink frosting with blue one, possibly to make them look more badass.

"Apology accepted," he smirked again, hoping he'd get her to smile or something.

She didn't.

In fact, she looked like she was going to cry.

Puck panicked.

"Hey," he touched her arm as to offer some sort of comfort because the tears were definitely threatening to vacate her eyes and he didn't think he could bear see her cry.

"I'm really sorry!" Rachel sobbed.

If there was one thing Puck knew about Rachel Berry (and he knew _a lot_ of thing about her) was that she hated people seeing her cry. So given that they were standing by his locker, inevitably drawing attention to themselves (because they were two hot Jews _and_ he was holding a tray of cookies), first thing in Puck's agenda was to get her to a secluded place where she could cry without being ridiculed. So balancing the tray and keeping a tight hold on Rachel's hand, he rushed to the first empty classroom he could find.

Once behind closed doors she hugged him (the tray ended up smoothly on the teacher's desk).

He sighed into her because feeling her arms around his waist, clinging desperately and burying herself in his chest just felt so right. Like he'd been gone a long time and he'd only just returned home.

"It was an accident," he said softly in her ear stroking her brown locks. "I should've asked if they had nuts."

Rachel shook her head, refusing to let go of him. "I saw you inspect the brownie before you ate it. It's my fault because I don't like food with chunks so I ground the nuts."

"You didn't do it on purpose."

She unburied her face from his chest and stared into his eyes. "You could've died."

"I didn't."

She smiled and closed her eyes visibly relieved. Puck couldn't help his hand on its way up to her face to wipe the single tear that had dared depart from her eyes.

The first bell rang and he swore he almost heard her curse.

"I guess we'd better go," Rachel broke apart and backed to the door. "Oh, and I expect a detailed list of all your allergies. I'm sure I'll be cooking for you in the future and I don't want to risk you dying in my table," she said with a shy smile before she opened the door and left his in the classroom.

Puck picked his tray and left the classroom behind her, death glaring whoever dared to look at him sideways.

(If he focused hard enough, he could still feel her arms around his waist and the top of her head against his neck.)

(Her perfume, on the other hand, would accompany him for the rest of the day without any effort on his part needed.)

* * *

When Rachel said she was psychic, she wasn't kidding.

She may not be able to read minds, but her sixth sense was always alert, even when her conscious self wasn't. That's the reason why she woke up this morning a whole hour before she'd planned, to be struck by a revelation.

She harbored romantic feelings for Noah Puckerman.

And really, if she thought about it, she should've realized sooner. The near death brownie incident was just a wake up call, but the feelings were definitely there before that. She'd compared Hank to him constantly and found him a thousand times the winner, she'd gotten over her school girl infatuation with Finn extremely quickly, when really it had been gradual and had been going on for quite some time without her even realizing. Rachel had only clung to the idea of her and Finn because, well that's what she thought she wanted. If that had been the case, she wouldn't have felt the tremendous amount of guilt she had when she'd gone behind Quinn's and Noah's back's to pursue Finn. It wasn't just because of her friendship with Quinn that she'd felt bad or that she felt her heart sink to a bottomless pit every time Noah looked at her, it was because of her feelings for Noah!

In her dream, he was singing to her, and he was quitting football, and he was rescuing her panties from Jacob, he was calling her beautiful, kissing her, smiling, smirking, every little thing he always did around her and that she took for granted. So when she woke up, full with warm feelings and feeling absolutely flying, the perfect song for the Valentine's special came to her. And it was all about him.

True to what Mr. Shue had first anticipated, the performances of the day were full with the spirit of love and merriment. Matt was the first to go.

_I'm a high school lover, and you're my favorite flavor  
Love is all, all my soul  
You're my playground love_

_Yet my hands are shaking  
I feel my body remains, time's no matter, I'm on fire  
On the playground, love._

_You're the piece of gold the flashes on my soul.  
Extra time, on the ground.  
You're my playground love._

_Anytime, anywhere,  
You're my playground love._

Next followed Mercedes (who Rachel noticed was looking particularly ecstatic).

_At last my love has come along  
My lonely days are over  
And life is like a song a__t Last_

_Ohh yeah yeah  
At last  
The skies above are blue  
My heart was wrapped up in clover  
The night I looked at you_

_I found a dream, that I could speak to  
A dream that I can call my own  
I found a thrill to press my cheek to  
A thrill that I have never known_

_Ohh yeah yeah…  
You smile, you smile  
Oh and then the spell was cast  
And here we are in heaven  
For you are mine...._

Artie rolled in after her.

_Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am home again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am whole again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am young again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am fun again_

_However far away I will always love you  
However long I stay I will always love you  
Whatever words I say I will always love you  
I will always love you_

(And Rachel could swear Tina was struggling not to cry.)

He was followed by Santana.

_I've seen your face a thousand times  
Have all your stories memorized  
I've kissed your lips a million ways  
But I still love to have you around_

_I've held you too many times to count  
I think I know you inside out  
And we're together most days  
But I still love to have you around_

_You're the one I want and it's not just phase  
You're the one I trust, our love is the real thing_

_Don't go away  
My love  
I want you to stay  
In my life  
Don't go away  
My lover  
I'm happiest when we spend time_

(Rachel felt a tingle of jealousy jerk her. Who was Santana singing about? Was she still romantically investing in Noah?)

It was Puck's turn at last and Rachel found that her heart was beating faster than her regular calmed pace.

She noticed he avoided all eyes, so Rachel tried not to find it personal that even though she was trying to make eye contact he refused.

He had his guitar with him as always, and the expectation was almost too much for Rachel to bear. She believed songs represented what you felt and her song choice sure did. Would his let on any of his true feelings?

_Love is a burning thing  
And it makes a fiery ring  
Bound by wild desire  
I fell into a ring of fire  
_

_I fell into a burning ring of fire  
I went down, down, down  
And the flames went higher_

_And it burns, burns, burns  
The ring of fire  
The ring of fire_

_The taste of love is sweet  
When hearts like ours meet  
I fell for you like a child  
Oh, but the fire went wild_

_I fell into a burning ring of fire  
I went down, down, down  
And the flames went higher  
And it burns, burns, burns_

_The ring of fire  
The ring of fire_

_And it burns_

Rachel was positively ecstatic. She'd heard Noah repeatedly admit that she made him want to light himself on fire, so whether it was on purpose or not, his song held a significant importance to how he felt.

(Plus, he'd glanced at her every now and then while he was singing and there was so much emotion in his oh so green eyes, that Rachel could hardly ignore what his song meant.)

(She mentally jumped up and down.)

"Rachel?" Schue called her to the front.

"Thank you Mr. Schuester," she grinned brightly.

Nervous was a word unknown to Rachel. It was.

(But her stomach felt all fuzzy when she locked her gaze to Puck's before she started singing with a silky smooth voice that surprised everyone in the room.)

_The sleepless nights - the daily fights  
The quick toboggan - when you reach the heights  
I miss the kisses - and I miss the bites  
I wish I were in love again_

_The broken dates - the endless waits  
The lovely loving - and the hateful hates  
The conversation - with the flying plates  
I wish I were in love again_

_No more pain - no more strain  
Now I'm sane - but I would rather be punch - drunk_

_The pulled out fur - of cat and cur  
The fine mismating - of a him and her  
I've learned my lesson - but I wish I were in love again_

_When love congeals - it soon reveals  
The faint aroma - of performing seals  
The double-crossing - of a pair of heals  
I wish I were in love again_

_No, no more care - no, no despair  
Now I'm sane - but I'd rather be punch drunk_

_Believe me sir - I much prefer  
The classic battle - of a him and her  
I don't like quiet - and I wish I were  
In love again_

_Again_

_Again _

In retrospective she may admit that she had been too blunt. After all, it seemed like everyone could read between the lines now and figured out at once that she was staring at Puck for a reason.

Rachel didn't care.

She had already color charted her plan to make him fall for her.

(And by God, she will succeed.)

* * *

**Have you seen Mark Salling's tribute to his Glee family on YouTube? if you haven't, please go and watch because it's the cutest thing I have ever seen.**

**And please, hit the green button and let me know what you think of this chapter.**

**XOXO**


	8. Heart of a star

**Hello beautiful people! Thank you all for the amazing reviews! They are the purest form of love for a fanfiction writer such as myself.**

**So, this chapter is slightly shorter but I really hope you enjoy it. By the way, if Kurt and Mercedes seem too OOC in this one, I sincerely apologize. They are not my favourite characters and I admit that sometimes I hate them, but well, what can I do?**

**I don't own Glee, 'We will rock you' or 'You've got the heart of a star'.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter eight: Heart of a star.

Rachel had watched enough t.v. teenage drama shows to know that your girl friend's exs were off limits and that pursuing them seriously jeopardized said friendship. And even when your girl friend ended up accepting your new romantic relationship with her ex, it usually took a fair amount of time before that happened, during which the friendship was put on hold. So, like any sane independent young woman who found herself in this life crossroads, Rachel believed that presenting Quinn, who had been her friend of a little over two months, the scheme she had machinated in order to woo her baby daddy (color coded chart and _all_, Rachel figured she'd look crazy enough explaining the plan so the chart couldn't really make things look even worse than they already did), could have two possible outcomes: either Quinn was angry and unsupportive or sad and unsupportive; in both cases, nevertheless, their blossoming friendship would lay on the line waiting for a breeze that would swing it back to its healthy course or fall into nothingness. That's only what a normal teenage pregnant girl would do, right?

Wrong.

Quinn had laughed so hard she had to run to the bathroom to pee and every time she tried to stop she'd take a glance at the color coded chart hanging in Rachel's closet next to her _other_ color coded chart with Noah's daily schedule (the one she'd come up with to keep track on him when Quinn first moved in with Rachel) and the hilarity would roll in just as if it had never really gone.

Rachel would have been hurt (in fact she was at first, a little) if Quinn hadn't assured her between giggled that she wasn't laughing at her, but at the situation because it was infinitely funny.

(Rachel had to agree that maybe she had a point.)

Plus, her laughter was in no way of the mean kind whatsoever. It was like she was watching a really funny and embarrassing movie.

(Rachel wondered briefly if she could endure the humiliation if came the time to set her plan in motion, she'd get the same response from Noah.)

Quinn eventually came out of it and apologized profusely, voicing both her moral and logistic support. Together they went over Rachel's plan, changing it where Quinn suggested. Rachel was really appreciating it, since Quinn could offer an outsider (yet not really) perspective that could just give her plan the touch it was lacking.

All that needs to be said was that Noah Puckerman was going to have the most adoring and relentless girlfriend in the world. And, unexpectedly, Kurt was the one of provided Rachel with the perfect setting for the unleashing of her scheme.

"We have a problem," he announced gravely as he made his breath-take away entrance in the choir room flanked by Mercedes and Tina.

He had put good use to the phone tree dedicated solely for Glee emergencies and ordered each and every one of them (he had the guts) to meet him at the choir room at lunch.

"The situation is chaotic," he said visibly chagrined.

"Schue said not to the sequins, didn't he?" Santana guessed wryly.

"Jury still out on that one," he admitted. "But I'm afraid this is much more serious. We're about to be invaded by the grotesquely slacker part of the Senior class."

"What?"

"That's right," he affirmed. "I saw it with my own eyes."

_Earlier that day._

"Mr. Schue," called a tall and handsome African American guy as he intercepted Schue on his way to the teacher's lounge.

"Hi, Ronnie, how's that essay on the Argentinean-Uruguayan paper factory conflict going?" he greeted.

"Huh-- Going?" he guessed. "I really wanted to talk to you about--" he looked around hesitatingly. "-- _Glee_."

"What about it?" Schue frowned.

"They are so good!" Ronnie said excitedly. "And what you're doing with them is really cool."

"Well, thanks."

"So, can I join?"

"And then he told Schue he had a lot of friends who were just as interested in being a part of Glee," Kurt said, back to present. "Schue agreed to let them audition."

"What's the problem?" Brittany asked next to Santana. "The more the better, right?"

Kurt pinched the bridge of his noise.

"There were fourteen of them last time we checked," Tina informed them.

"They out number us?"

"Come on," Santana cut in rolling her eyes. "It's probably just some joke."

"Maybe they are good," Brittany nodded,

"_Pah_-lease," Kurt snorted. "There's only so much talent a town like Lima can produce, and we are just about it."

"I'm with Kurt. This doesn't smell good," Mercedes bowed her head to the side.

Rachel stepped in. "I have a good amount of faith that Mr. Schuester will only choose the worthy ones to join us. And while we don't have time to teach the numbers to more people, I'm sure some new additions will be beneficial on the long term."

Kurt simply ignored her. "The audition is held today at three thirty, I expect you all be there to stop this colossal mistake."

Quinn rolled her eyes and gently slapped Rachel's arm. "Forget about them, you know how they like to overreact. You," she said mischievously as she spared a meaningful glance in Puck's direction. "Have business to get on."

"Yes," Rachel smiled bubbly. As she made her way to Puck, she ran a nervous hand over her hair and fixed her most confident face.

Just as she was within his reach, she slipped.

(Totally on purpose, of course.)

Puck's arms were right there to catch her, rounding one around her waist and resting his hands on the small of her back. Rachel feigned a mortified look as she dug her fingers on his broad shoulders.

"Oh, Noah, thank you for catching me!" she smiled brightly and gripped harder.

"Uh, you're welcome," Puck growled. He was very aware of the lack of distance between them. He gently set her on her feet and ignored that fact that her hands lingered on his shoulders longer than they should've.

"You have really good reflexes," Rachel inched closer and her hand ghosted over his forearm. "I guess it just is one of your_ many_ virtues."

"Uh, yeah?" he wasn't really sure where that conversation was going.

(Plus Rachel was blinking awfully fast and it was just plain weird.)

"I was wondering," she purred. "Would you teach me to play the guitar?"

His brow shot up in amusement. "Really? I didn't know you were interested."

"Well, I am," she assured him seriously, blinking insanely fast. "I find your strumming _incredibly interesting_."

Puck's brain froze like he'd been slushied inside out.

That was the hottest thing he'd heard her say. Ever.

(And what made it all the worse was that Rachel probably didn't know what she was implying, scratch that, there was _no way_ Rachel knew what she was implying. She was as innocent as Snow White and Puck was going to hell for picking innuendos from the sweet girl blinking weirdly at him.)

(Bad Jew.)

"Uh," he cleared his throat loudly. "Sure," he agreed, making his best not to repeat her words in his head.

"Thank you," she purred. "I can't wait to see _all_ you have to teach me."

(God fucking hated him.)

He cleared his throat again, because seriously, all that blood headed south was making it really hard to focus. "Something wrong with your eyes?"

"What do you mean?" the blinking intensified.

"Well," he frowned, looking for the right words to elaborate but he didn't get to put any together.

"I have to go!" Rachel announced suddenly.

With her trademark megawatt smile, she turned around and power walked out of the choir room, leaving Puck frowning. What the fuck just happened?

"So, did I do Okay?" Rachel whispered to Quinn who was waiting for her by the door.

Quinn gave her a long-suffering look. "Why did you leave like that?"

"You told me I should be the one to always end the conversation," Rachel reminded her.

Shaking her head, Quinn linked her arm on Rachel's and led the way to the nearest ladies room. "Come. We need to work on your lash batting!"

* * *

"You got slushied?"

Puck glared at Matt as he walked in the locker room showers. Considering the bluntly obvious way his clothes were soaked in several kinds of slushie flavor, he'd say it was pretty damn clear that, yeah, he'd just been slushied.

Making his way out of his ruined clothes (he refused to think of the fortune he'd made Rachel spend on drycleaners in the past), he growled. "It was either me or Quinn."

"The hockey team?" Matt asked sounding understanding.

"Yeah," he turned on the water and stepped into the shower stall next to Matt's.

"I thought Karofsky wasn't messing with her after she got his back for that video thing with Rachel," his former friend went on, acting as if, hey, pal, last two months didn't happen at all.

"He tipped me off the where and when," Puck elaborated (because even thought he was majorly pissed, he just couldn't help it).

Silence settled as they both went on with their respective showers. Out of the corner of his eye, Puck could totally see Matt awkwardly glancing sideways at him.

Things had been pretty odd since last week when he suffered the allergic reaction to Rachel's brownies. While it had been like a week before that the beatings had stopped, Puck was definitely sure it was due to the fact that the guys on the wrestling team had publicly shown they had his back, not because of any streak of guilt Finn and the others had developed and that still didn't stop Finn from glaring at him every chance he could and Mike and Matt from ignoring him like the space he occupied was in fact empty (and for some reason, that _hurt_). After the death scare (Rachel's words, not his) they had acted awkwardly smooth around him. Mike would meet his eyes and nod at him briefly when they run into each other and Finn spent a lot of time frowning and thinking and none piercing daggers into Puck's skull with his intent glare.

And Matt? Matt was fucking making polite conversation.

"The whole thing with the seniors is pretty messed up," he mentioned offhandedly.

"I guess," Puck growled.

"Mercedes won't shut up about it," Matt added tiredly. "You should see her and Kurt brainstorming and machinating," he shook his head. "It's scary."

Seriously? What the fuck was up with him today? Did he really think he could just talk shit and act like everything was cool between them?

"They have a point though," he quickly assured glancing at him. Puck just stared ahead of him. "I mean, we can't win with fourteen new dudes trying to learn the steps just weeks before Regionals--"

Puck chose that moment to zone off, because even if Matt had point, he couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't get it. Matt was a relatively smart guy, lately douchey, yes, but every men had that at one point or another. What was his deal acting so carefree and cool now?

Okay, so he had kind of (totally) saved his life the other day with Finn and Mike's help and Puck appreciated it (hell, he'd bake them a freaking pie), and he admitted that it had been pretty scary (not that he'd been scared, no, he was a badass. But Rachel had been terrified and Quinn had done her fair share of worry too) and Mr. Schue and the gleeks had greeted him specially cheerily when he'd returned to school the following day (which incidentally was exactly when Finn and the other two started weirding him out), so Puck, in no way the dimwit general opinion often tried to make him be, was pretty much sure both events were connected. But, hell, he was still mad at them.

(He was not being hunted every night by the words Finn had whispered in his ear that day. _Breathe, man, it's gonna be Okay._)

(Because it wasn't.)

"You know what I'm sayin'?"

Puck snapped out of his inner somewhat monologuesque stupor and growled some undecipherable response tilting his head up to the spray of hot water.

"Uh, listen man," Matt turned around and stared at him over the stall wall. Sighing defeated (there was an apology coming and Puck didn't think he was ready to take it) he humored his old friend and maintained eye contact. "We just wanted to thank you, Mercedes and I," he clarified. "for not ratting us out. We really appreciate it."

His jaw clenched as he stared Matt's deep brown eyes. The guy was _thanking _him. After all the crap, he was thanking him. Un-fucking-believable.

"Didn't do it for you," he snorted derisively, the fully grown douche within him raising his ugly head. "Unlike other people, I know how to keep my mouth shout."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Means your girl's a total trout mouth," he spitted. "I told her about the baby and she gave me this huge lecture of how _I_ had to keep my mouth shut cause it was Quinn's choice, and then she went and told every-fucking-body except the one that actually mattered."

"I don't see you having this talk with Rachel," Matt responded in kind, ready to jump and protect his girlfriend's reputation.

"Dude, I don't fucking care Rachel told Finn!" he snapped angrily. "All she did was what I couldn't and Quinn wouldn't. I don't care how much crap I have to take from you guys, I can actually _breathe_ now, so yeah, I'm fucking delighted she told him. Mercedes just gossiped behind our backs and Quinn and I are still waiting for her apology. It was a shitty thing for her to do."

Puck saw it coming. Matt had that freakishly angry gleam he always got when he was _pissed _and about to pound into Puck and sucker-punch him with every ounce of strength he had.

Only this time, Puck knew he was right. He may deserve Finn taking it all out on him, but Matt was fighting for Mercedes, and she had wronged Puck so badly if she weren't a girl, she'd be his favorite punch bag. Plus, Matt wanted to defend his girl's honor, what kind of gentleman would Puck be if he didn't oblige?

With a wicked smirk, Puck swung back.

(Boy, had he missed that.)

* * *

It was a fact known to all those somehow related to Glee that if Mercedes was glaring at Rachel it was because the petite brunette ingénue had wrongfully taken the spot light away from her. Well, that day at three thirty the glaring was present, only Rachel was reciprocating it just as heatedly as Mercedes was.

The funny part was that it wasn't over a solo, far from it actually.

Everybody had gasped at the sight of Matt walking in the auditorium at exactly three thirty. Both his eyes were black and one of his lids was completely swollen and shut down. His left cheekbone was visibly jagged and he had a broken lip. He'd cleaned off whatever blood he'd shed (and if the state of his nose was any indication, he'd shed a lot), but he still looked terrible. His pace, to go with the rest of his general appearance, was slow and uneven. Mercedes rushed to him screeching like a banshee asking him who had damaged his goodies so she could go find him and permanently cockblock him.

The gleeks were just as interested. Matt was, after all, generally liked.

Bare seconds later, sporting a barely swelling jaw and a black eye, Puck made his entrance right after Matt, his hands buried on his jean's pockets and smirking smugly at every single one of the gaping teens.

Oh, yeah, he was so the man.

"Noah," Rachel approached him and feathery touched his jaw line with her finger. "Are you Okay?"

His smirk became a wide grin as he lost himself in her deep chocolate eyes and felt the goose bumps all over. He glanced at Matt and Mercedes. "Oh, yes, I am."

"Oh, no he didn't!" Mercedes stomped her foot and started to march to his direction.

She was interrupted by Mr. Schue and they had to take their seats; the seniors were behind stage and eager to get started.

From that moment on, Rachel and Mercedes had been allegorically bitch slapping each other. Puck couldn't help his grin from grow wider as he watched Rachel death glaring the other girl and pressed herself to his side next to him as they sat expectantly.

The seniors came on stage and lined up side by side. True to Tina's earlier words, there were fourteen of them: eight guys and six chicks.

Ronnie, one of the football players and the one who had approached Schue, stepped front. "We really appreciate this opportunity," he told them. "And you totally kicked ass at the Valentine's dance with that Queen song," he beamed. "So we figured we put up something you are familiar with."

(Puck was seriously hoping they weren't going to sing some shitty show tune.)

Ronnie returned to his place in the line and they started moving without any music whatsoever.

Stomp. Stomp. Clap.

Stomp. Stomp. Clap.

Stomp. Stomp. Clap.

It was clear what song they were singing even before they started actually singing it. Ronnie opened his mouth without stopping the leveled stomp, stomp, clap.

_Buddy you're a boy make a big nose  
Playin' in the street gonna be a big man some day  
You got mud on your face  
You big disgrace  
Kickin' your can all over the place  
Sing it!  
_  
**We will we will rock you  
We will we will rock you  
**  
Two of the anonymous girls in the line (Puck recognized them as long time ago conquests) took up after him.

_Buddy you're a young man hard man  
Shoutin' in the street gonna take on the world some day  
You got blood on your face  
You big disgrace  
Wavin' your banner all over the place  
_  
**We will we will rock you**  
_Sing it!  
_**We will we will rock you**

Another anonymous guy went after them.

_Buddy you're an old man poor man  
Pleadin' with your eyes gonna make you some peace some day  
You got mud on your face  
Big disgrace  
Somebody better put you back into your place  
_  
**We will we will rock you**  
_Sing it  
_**We will we will rock you**  
_Everybody_  
**We will we will rock you  
We will we will rock you**  
_Alright_

The stomp, stomp, clap ended abruptly and all fourteen potential gleeks downed their heads in unison.

Mr. Schuester clapped. They may not sound as good as his kids, but with a little sharpening here and there, there was definitely some talent he could work with. "Congratulations guys! Now, I would like to proceed with the individual auditions--"

"Mr. Schuester!" Kurt cut in desperately. "May I say something?"

Schue frowned warily. "Depends on how nice you're going to be," _or not at all._

"I just wanted to voice our collective thank you," he said regally to the fourteen seniors on stage. "That presentation was absolutely _adorable_," his dreamy smile never really reached his eyes though. "Would it be Okay if we responded in kind? As a treat of course," he assured the frowning teacher.

"Kurt, they have to audition and they had already seen you guys perform," Schue countered. "How 'bout we rain check?"

Kurt huffed and sat down dramatically, watching as Schue called the seniors for their individual auditions.

"I have wrestling practice, I gotta go," Puck whispered to Rachel and Quinn next to him.

Both girls nodded and watched him as he left. When he was out of earshot, Quinn snuggled closer to Rachel to run the steps of the plan one more time. "I'll be going in your car, you stay and go watch him practice and when he's finished you tell him--?"

"I had to stay in the library and I need a ride home," Rachel said automatically.

"And you will be invading his personal space," Quinn reminded her. "Did you see him flinch a while ago when you touched his jaw? That's what I'm talking about. Keep it classy and simple, but make sure he gets the hint. And don't forget to flip your hair to his nose so he can smell your perfume. Guys totally dig that."

"Got it," Rachel nodded fully resolute standing up. She needed to head to the ladies room first, of course, and prepare herself both physically and emotionally. "Wish me luck!"

"You don't need it!"

Okay, so Rachel's _original_ plan consisted on her approaching Noah several times a day and _casually_ (straightforwardly) pointing out their similarities as individuals that would inevitably become their strengths as a couple and also how well they complimented each other: while he was sharp around the edges and especially crude, she was prim and diplomatic; while both of them had ambition, Rachel was the one with the relentless overdrive which was more than enough to prompt them into success; he was also the more down-to-earth of the two of them, and Rachel could benefit from that as much as Noah would from her constantly set on the future mind. He was tall, she was short; he was broad and bulky and she was slender and petite. They fitted perfectly with each other.

He was the Mr. Darcy to her Elizabeth Bennett, the Chuck Bass to her Blair Waldorf, the Dean Winchester to her Jo Harvelle.

He simply and utterly was Noah Puckerman, resident bad boy and self-proclaimed badass. And Rachel? Rachel wanted to be Mrs. Badass.

(Okay, so maybekindasorta she saw the words Mrs. Rachel Puckerman often at night when she lay on her bed, and just as possibly she entertained thoughts such as wedding planning, but whatever. She was a teenage girl and a Jewish woman, after all. If there was one thing she'd picked up from her aunts and grandmas was that if you found a nice Jewish boy and he liked you as much as you liked him, you leg-shackle yourself to him and throw the key far far away.)

Back to her original plan, Quinn had insisted she changed it upon first seeing (and laughing at) it.

"While every healthy relationship should be based on honesty," she had said after her hilarity fit abandoned her. "Approaching Puck with a detailed list of the pros and cons of your being together is not a good idea. You have to woo him."

"How do I do that?" Rachel had asked nervously, feeling her confidence shatter in a million pieces along with her plan.

"You bat your lashes at him," Quinn demonstrated. "You flick your hair casually. You purr when you talk to him, smile charmingly and trace your fingers slowly up his arm when you're talking to him."

"That's flirting right?"

"Yes. And you _always_," she stressed "leave him wanting more. You end the conversation and you leave and before you know it, he's right behind you."

And yes, that part hadn't worked earlier that day and Quinn had been adamant that they skipped class and locked themselves in the bathroom to practice lash batting in front of the mirror until Rachel got it right. But Quinn's resolution stands: if Rachel wanted Noah, she couldn't go and just tell him from the go.

So there she was, waiting sitting in a bench in the hallway beside the locker room. Her first intention was to sit through practice and watch Noah and his wrestling buddies hit and press one another to the mat, but she hadn't been able to endure ten minutes without blushing profusely. Rachel was well aware that Noah was attractive and that as any healthy and athletic boy his age, he had indeed a nicely built body. She hadn't lied when she'd told him he had lovely arms.

But right now? The words sex on a stick were the only ones she saw fit to describe him.

Rachel felt she should feel ashamed, but she didn't. It was really just the society trying to introduce guilt in her when she should be proud of her awoken sexuality. It was healthy, after all, and as she had stated once before at the Celibacy Club, girl do think about sex just as much as boys do.

(And sex with Noah? Thinking that was what made her abandon the gym and wait in the hallway.)

She saw the doors open and Luke and Jake crossed them.

"I'm telling you dude," Luke was saying very concerned to one extremely aggravated looking Jake. "I scratched and I scratched but it wouldn't stop itching!"

"Rachel!" Jake practically run to her (or away from Luke, depends how you look at it). "How are you?"

"I'm very well," Rachel smiled warmly. Since Jake, Tom and Luke had showed up to help Noah with the aftermath of his allergic reaction she was insanely thankful to them. Plus, they had been really nice to Noah lately and as his future girlfriend she had to make a note to get along with his friends. "You guys were really good at practice. I wish I had stayed longer, but Quinn called me and I thought it'd be rude if I answered inside the gym," she lied convincingly.

"Don't sweat it," Luke assured her as he patted her shoulder. "It was good practice for when we start competing and we have an actual crowd cheering us."

"I will certainly be cheering front row."

"How's Quinn?" Jake asked.

"She was a little tired so she went straight home."

"Oh," Jake nodded frowning slightly. "Well, tell her I said hi."

Rachel would be the first to admit she wasn't exactly sharp when it came to social interaction, but she was fairly positive that there was something going on there. Could it be that Jake nestled romantic feelings for Quinn?

That notion momentarily took a back seat on her mind as she watched Noah exit the locker room with Tom. Her heart skipped a beat and the familiar butterflies in her stomach became alive.

Quinn's words rang loud in her head: invade his personal space.

So, Rachel hugged him and kissed his cheek.

(Behind her, Jake, Luke and Tom stared amused at Puck, who looked as dumbstruck as he felt. Luke gave him a thumbs up and mouthed 'Right on!')

"Hi Noah," Rachel greeted breaking the embrace but only separating bare inches from him. She had the decency of looking a tiny bit embarrassed. "I missed you."

Okay, so Puck had guessed he was in trouble since earlier that day. Rachel was acting especially crazy and she kept staring at him adoringly. Mind you, he really enjoyed that and he actually had the feeling that she maybe was in like with him. Now, as she breached every line of decency and invaded his personal space, Puck was damn sure she was into him. Which confirmed his former guess that he was, indeed, in trouble.

He seriously didn't know how much longer he was going to last without telling Rachel about his predicament (read: feelings) and his soon to fail resistance had nothing to do with the fact that she was smoking hot and that he was sick and tired of taking cold showers in winter. For a badass who wasn't supposed to develop feelings, he was honest to God screwed in that department and it was killing him slowly. It had been hard to resist the verbal diarrhea that threatened to exit his mouth confessing the deepest crush he'd ever had when Rachel looked like she wouldn't correspond like he wanted, but since she'd told him she was over Finn, he'd noticed things had changed and with the death scare it had only intensified. When she looked at him, he felt _seen _and it was warm and awesome and he wanted to tell her _so much_ it hurt to look at her and keep his mouth shut. But he'd made a promise to Quinn and he was going to try his hardest to keep it.

(That was all part of his plan to be a better man. Hey, if he was going to bring a child to the world, no matter the couple they'd selected to adopt her, he still wanted to make his daughter proud. So, when he promised his mother he was taking care of dinner, she came home to an actual homemade meal instead of Chinese food. He was also being less mean to his sister -which was hard because she was a badass in the making and she was very annoying- and helping out around his home more.)

"Hey, Berry," he greeted backing one step because _come on!_ she was all over him. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to do some research in the library and Quinn took my car back home," Rachel smiled staring up at his green eyes. "Is it Okay if I catch a ride with you?"

"Sure," he nodded feeling something akin to butterflies in his stomach as he watched the obvious wave of happiness cross her face. "Here," he reached for the handle of her pink trolley bag, his fingers lingering over hers momentarily. "Let me take this."

"Thank you," she breathed relishing on his touch before slipping her hand away.

They walked with the guys to the parking lot pretending the moment hadn't just happened. Puck opened the door for her and held her hand firmly in his to help her up before pushing her trolley over the bed of his truck. As they left the parking lot silently, Puck reached for the radio and tuned till he found a station. Rachel sighed content.

"I love this song," she smiled and hummed softly.

_Cos you can only be what you are  
And you've got the heart of a star  
But the light never hits ya_

Puck glanced her way and couldn't help to grin and relax. She looked so at peace and calm. "It's a good one to learn how to play the guitar, you know."

She grinned. "You're seriously going to teach me?"

"I said I would and I'm keeping my promise Berry," Puck smirked.

"Okay," she turned in her seat and sat closer to him facing him. "Who taught you?" Rachel asked truthfully curious.

"My grandpa," his lips twitched as the slow smile made its way up. "My sister and I used to spend a lot of time with him and grams after my dad left cos my ma had to work. He taught me how to cook too."

She laughed wholeheartedly. "That is so sweet, in a very masculine, badass way, of course," she assured him. "Was he at the Christmas Festival when we performed?"

"No," he shook his head, frowning ever so slightly. "He doesn't go out much since grams died."

"Oh," Rachel whispered and reached to touch his arm. "I'm sorry."

"It's Okay," Puck hid away whatever momentary sadness that had threatened to creep out of him. "She was sick."

Rachel nodded and slid closer on the seat, their shoulders brushing. "I don't know what its like to lose someone like that," she confessed. "But I know it scares me."

Puck came to a stop in front of her house and stared deep into the brown pools of her eyes. "It's Okay if you're a little scared. It means you care."

Their faces were really close, and they became loser as Rachel leaned over slowly. Puck sharply breathed in inhaling her sent as she turned her head to the side and kissed him on the cheek.

"Bye, Noah," Rachel whispered in his ear before quickly hooping off and snatching her pink trolley from the bed, being closely followed by Puck's adoring eyes.

She waved good-bye before she closed the front door.

Puck sat motionless behind the wheel.

_Well, fuck._

* * *

"Down, up, clap, clap, clap and swing," Brittany called as she along with Mike and Santana demonstrated the choreography for the group. "Girls leap away and guys front and center. Hands up, left, right, swing--"

"Stop it!" Kurt pinched his nose and sniffed annoyed. "Brittany, that is too simple. Unless you can come up with something more elaborated I'm getting premature wrinkles and I'll be damned if that happens."

"You said you wanted a choreography stat, this is what we came up with," Santana snapped. She'd have just about enough of the little lady fabulous attitude. "And it's good."

"Excuse me, we have to do better than good," Kurt scoffed. "Do you _want_ those animals joining Glee club?"

"I _want _to slap you," the Latina voiced regally and took two steps toward the diva.

"I can't work like this," Kurt turned around dramatically and slumped in the nearest chair closing his eyes and willing the tension from his body.

"What do you guys think of the choreography?" Mike asked looking at the rest.

"I like it," Rachel assured them smiling. Brittany and Santana smiled back and Mike did a little victory dance.

(Kurt's derogatory "Of course she does," didn't go un-heard by anybody.)

"I'm a little confused with the first part," Finn admitted.

"It's easy," Brittany said cheerily. "Front and center, left, right, left, stop, clap, down and swing."

She demonstrated again slowly, this time with Finn following her lead, being acutely watched by the rest trying to memorize the steps.

"This is a disaster," Kurt whispered from the back.

"Hey!" Brittany snapped, pointing her manicured finger at him and making everyone jump. "If you can come up with something better, then bring it on. I only take constructive criticism."

"Otherwise, we'll shave your head," Santana backed her up.

"Well, I'm sorry if I'm not happy about the fourteen new additions we have," Kurt exploded jumping from his chair and coming to face the two cheerleaders in the middle of the room.

"Kurt, I thought the whole point of preparing this song was to welcome our new fellow Glee clubbers," Rachel reminded him of his words. "If we're going to get so worked up over it, then we shouldn't do it at all."

"Are you insane? This is our one chance to scare them off. When we perform for them tomorrow and we show them that Glee club is all about full time commitment and intricate singing and dancing, they will walk! Their dancing only extends to 'stomp, stomp, clap'. Am I the only one who is actually concerned about our chances to win Regionals with those goats sharing our stage?"

"I'm about as victory driven as anyone," Rachel retorted. "But even I admit that this is getting too out of control."

"Why? Because I'm the one with New Direction's best interest at heart and not you?"

"Of course not--!"

"Admit it, you're just jealous you didn't think of this brilliant idea first."

He beamed as he saw the hurt in Rachel's face, his comment hitting it's mark.

"Watch it, Kurtsie," Quinn warned behind Rachel. "You're pissing off too many people today."

"Can we please be productive?" he ignored her. "Mercedes?"

"Right, Finn and Artie, get your behinds here with me. The rest of you," she sneered her nose as her eyes landed on Puck. "Music sheets on the piano. Get moving."

"He's gonna reunite with the dumpsters if he doesn't cut it the fuck off," Puck predicted when he reached the piano, Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Santana, Brittany, Matt and Mike rounding up together.

"Our moves are great. I don't know what he's talking about," Mike complained.

"They're just upset."

"I can't believe you're defending them," Quinn frowned at Rachel. The rest mimicked her.

"I'm not, it's just that I understand that feeling insecure is really hard and the only way they have to cope with this particular change of situation is by being overwhelmingly irritating," Rachel shrugged, picking up the sheets and handing them out to the rest.

"So what, we play along?" Santana scowled. "We didn't sleep last night coming up with this routine, and you know why? Because Beyoncé kept calling me to make sure we weren't!"

"And we're totally wasting our lunch time here practicing so that we can scare off some dudes we don't even know," Matt added.

"It's a really good song," Rachel pointed out the bright side. "And it's definitely Regionals material."

"Then why are we busting our asses so that we can perform it tomorrow for a bunch of losers who ain't worth the trouble?" Puck snapped.

"Hey yo!" Mercedes barked. "We're getting started_ now_."

They all shared a look of pure unadulterated rage.

Twenty minutes later, it wasn't getting any better. By the time Tom walked in, Santana was being held off by Quinn and Rachel from physically assaulting Kurt, who was being verbally assaulted by one wrath arisen Brittany and defended by Bitch!Mercedes while the boys and Tina stood in line snapping their heads from one side to the other following the heated exchange of opinions.

"Hey," Tom called mildly. He figured he didn't really want to be on the receiving end of all that anger.

Puck approached him. "Hey dude."

"I have bad news for you guys," Tom whispered keeping an eye on the thunderous Kurt. "But I don't think I wanna be here when all hell breaks loose. They're scary," he nodded to the girls and Kurt.

"Whatever, what happened?" Puck crossed his arms and frowned.

"I was on the gym with Jake and we heard some of the seniors talking about collage and stuff and they said that some kids their class got into Glee because it attracts a lot of collage attention. I don't know if it's true--"

"Excuse me?" Kurt power walked toward him. "Is that true?"

"I just said I don't know--"

"But you're positive that's what you heard?" Kurt prodded and Tom nodded. "See?" he turned around with 'victory' written in bold neon letters on his forehead. "I was right. They have an ulterior motive and they just want to use us. We must go straight to Mr. Schuester, after we show those slackers what Glee is capable of when wronged this badly."

"Kurt, come on! Are you listening to yourself right now?" Quinn laughed.

He turned a very unbecoming shade of red. "We have endured the slushie facials and the trips to the dumpsters and port-a-pottys, if there's even the slightest amount of collage attention drawn by Glee, then we deserve it."

"Stop it," Rachel called calmly but determined. "This is getting out of control and you have got to put yourself back together. They sang and they danced," she went on slowly. "And they did it Okay. Now, I have faith in Mr. Shuester and if he sees fit to have them on the team, then I won't question it. And quite frankly, I think it's a little hypocrite to feel so reluctant to new additions based only on the fact that we don't know them or that they want to go to collage. Most of us are applying for music scholarships and you know it."

"It's not--"

"I'm not finished," she cut in, her voice upping an octave. "If we don't want to remain outcasts, then we can't be alienating them."

"We're going to loose," Kurt predicted pessimistically.

"If you feel that way then walk away," Rachel held her chin up. "And I'm pulling rank. As your Co-Captain I'm ordering you to shut up and welcome the new members with outstretched arms."

They departed the choir room after Rachel dismissed them and asked Kurt to stay behind to have a private word with him. Seeing his chance, Puck caught up with Quinn down the hallway.

"We have a problem. I think Rachel's coming on to me."

"I know," Quinn confessed. "I'm the one who told her how."

"What?" he snapped.

"Well, the alternative was a detailed pros and cons list and a color coded pie graphic that demonstrated what a great couple you'd be and I figured she wouldn't take it too well when you laughed your ass off when she presented it to you."

"I meant why are you helping her?" he actually kind of wished Rachel had come on to him with the color coded pie graphic. It sounded cute (_hot_, man! Badasses don't even think the word cute!).

Quinn sighed and stopped walking to face him. "It was stupid and selfish of me asking you to keep your feelings to yourself. I know that know," she swallowed. "So, if you're still in like with her and you want to do something about it, you have my blessing and full-on support."

Whoa, that was some serious personal growth Puck was witnessing front row.

Wait.

"So, I don't have to keep the promise I made to you?" Quinn nodded grinning. "Oh," _Oooooh_. "Okay."

He frowned and walked slowly ahead, contemplating the new development in his complicated life.

"So, are you gonna go for it?" Quinn asked enthusiastically as she followed him.

* * *

"As your Co-Captain I would like to welcome all of you in the name of the rest of the team," Rachel megawatt smiled to the fourteen newest additions to New Directions, currently sitting side by side in the auditorium. "By it's own definition, Glee is nothing more and nothing less than exultant high-spirited joy and we are happy and honored that you want to be a part of it. With nothing further, we would like to welcome you the best way we know how," with one last smile, Rachel took her seat in the high stool between Finn and Tina.

Two places on her left, Puck started strumming his guitar, with Finn opening the song.

_Never gonna get along hanging out thinking out loud  
You never gonna get it on and be someone stuck in that crowd_

Mercedes took after him.

_So you call out the feelings you hope that don't never exist  
But don't be ashamed of your bones and your blisters _

They both joined together.

_So come on come on my brothers and sisters_

With Kurt's tambourine and the rest oohing in the back, Tina followed.

_Cos you can only be what you are_

Then Brittany.

_And you've got the heart of a star_

Then Matt.

_But the light never hits ya _

And then the three of them cried. _And I said come on, come on my brothers and sisters..._

Artie metaphorically stepped in.

_If you could see what I could see maybe we could all get along  
And maybe I could justify the bad things in life that I've done_

With Quinn right behind him.

_So I call out the feelings I know that don't ever exist  
I won't be ashamed of my bones and my blisters_

And then together. _So come, on come on my brothers and sisters... _

The oohing upped a notch and Santana sang her part.

_Cos you can only be what you are_

Then Mike grinned.

_Cos you've got the heart the heart of a star_

Enthusiastically slapping his tambourine, Kurt carried on after him.

_But the light never hits ya._

Immediately after they mashed their three voices together. _And I said come on come on my brothers and sisters..._

Brittany took the flute that had been resting on her lap and joined Puck's guitar and Kurt's tambourine for the short instrumental solo, after which Rachel sang her lines.

_And the slower that you go  
The greener the grass grows  
And what we all need is love in our lives_

Puck's turn came.

_So go about your business  
Cos life ain't your mistress _

And then they cried together. _Come on, come on my brothers and sisters..._

_Cos you can only be what you are _(Kurt)  
_Cos you've got the heart of a star _(Tina)  
_But the light never hits ya _(Quinn)

_So be all you can _(Santana)  
_And just hold up your hands _(Matt)  
_Someday you'll understand why life never kissed ya _(Puck)  
_And I said come on, come on my brothers and sisters _(Mercedes)

_Come on, come on my brothers and sisters _(Finn)

_I said come on, come on my brothers and sisters _(Brittany)  
_I said come on, come on my brothers and sisters _(Mike)  
_I said come on, come on my brothers and sisters_ (Rachel)

_Come on, come on my brothers and sisters_ (Artie)

The fourteen seniors gaped openly and Mr. Schuester smiled proudly.

* * *

**Okay, so that wraps it up. Any thoughts? I would love to hear some! So, you know, go click the green button and leave a long detailed review (I'm a sucker for those, and they make me update faster!).**


	9. Spooky night

**Hello! Missed me? I bet you did. Okay, so originally this chapter was waay longer, but I decided no one likes to read a fourteen thousand word chapter (and that was the un-edited draft) so why not make it a two parter?**

**If I owned Glee, Quinn would be naming the baby Drizzle, Finn and Brittany would buck heads together all the time, Santana would get a solo, Matt would a line (I don't think I ever heard him speak on the show...), there would be mandatory shirtless Puck scenes on every chapter and, of course, Puckleberry all the way down!**

**I felt Drizzle was being overlooked, so this one goes out for her!**

Chapter nine: Spooky night

"You are permanently destroying all the girl on girl action I had stored up in the spank bank, I hope you know that," Puck growled as he uncomfortably lay on his back and kept his knees open.

"You are disgusting," Quinn whispered with her eyes closed and focusing on her breathing, using her hands to rub her belly, just as Puck right hand and Rachel's left were doing.

"Don't pay him any attention, Quinn," Rachel advised as she guided their breathing. "Breathe in and out."

"Imagine your baby settling his or her little head nicely into your pelvis and pushing gently," the childbirth instructor said as she paced among the couples. "Your folds open expectantly and you slowly dilate to help your beloved child into our world."

"I don't have folds, what the fuck is the point in this?" Puck whispered.

"Noah, keep quiet or so help me you'll wish you have folds," Rachel retorted just as quietly, maintaining her relaxed breathing.

The instructor kept guiding them through the exercise.

"This is the second weirdest three-some I have ever participated in," Puck commented as he helped Quinn and Rachel with the belly rubbing and gently pressing.

"I don't believe that," Quinn scoffed.

"If you scoff, you won't dilate properly and you'll need a C-section," Rachel warned her maintaining her peaceful tone. "Do you think you can live with that awful scar?"

Quinn focused on the exercise with religious fascination.

Puck had heard the words 'dilate', 'folds' and 'vagina' too much for not being any permanent psychological trauma.

And if you think this was funny, it was nothing compared to their introduction to the class. The fact that they were still in high school had been enough drama to take, but before they started the class rounded up and the mommies and daddies shared something about themselves, their baby and the recent developments they'd had. Since Quinn was new in the group, the instructor, Shauna, had insisted that they introduced themselves and the baby and maybe shed some light over the obvious baby drama. As lightly as possible, Rachel (because Quinn and Noah felt too intimidated to take the initiative) explained how Quinn was expecting a baby girl and how she was thirty- one weeks along, Noah was the father, but they weren't together and they were giving the baby up for adoption, and how Rachel was Quinn's best friend and quasi-doula. As if it hadn't been awkward enough, they were recognized from the Matressland commercial and the Christmas Festival, which led to Rachel enlightening them of the existence of New Directions, their success at Sectionals despite being robbed off their routines by their competition and the babygate that exploded at the same moment and the upcoming Regionals.

(It was well known to Quinn and Puck that when Rachel was nervous she talked and talked. They only wished she'd chosen another subject.)

One of the mommies, out of morbid fascination, asked what she referred to when she said babygate, and before Rachel could be stopped, she elaborated.

(Puck was starting to think that maybe coming to this class had been a mistake. If he had any doubt, the fact that the mommies, daddies and Shauna kept gaping openly and stare at them scandalized was a dead give away.)

As the class started, Quinn got a severe case of self-consciousness.

"I may be unceremoniously pregnant, but I'll be damned if I spread my legs wide open for everyone to see," she simply refused.

"Sometimes it helps when _someone_ goes with her by every step of the exercise," Shauna told them suggestively glancing at Puck and Rachel.

"Of course," Rachel agreed and laid flat on her back and extended her bent knees. "Come on, Quinn," she urged her cheerily. "No one is watching."

"Puck is watching," Quinn retorted.

"I'm really trying not to," he shook his head trying to look anywhere but, which was hard since they in a room full with woman with widened knees.

"You too, Noah," Rachel said willing the blush to abandon her cheeks. "On your back and open up."

And that's how Rachel, Quinn and Puck ended up laying one next to the other, imagining their vaginas dilating and rubbing Quinn's belly.

(Puck was eager to run to the bathroom immediately after the class was over so he could check his balls were still attached to his body.)

Twenty minutes later they were driving back to Rachel's having stopped before to buy a pastrami sandwich for Quinn and some stuff Rachel needed to make dinner to her dads. It was their anniversary and unlike most years, they had nothing special planned for the night, so she wanted to surprise them with a homemade dinner which Puck was helping her with.

(He had his 'Mr. Badass is COOKING' apron in his duffel bag. It was a sure ladies pleaser.)

She said her dads only indulged in empty carbs when it was a special occasion, so she'd decided she was making pasta for them. The trip to the market had never been funnier, with Puck making brand names sound dirty and Quinn and Rachel laughing while trying to assure the scandalized patrons that he was kidding. Back home and without removing their workout attire (Rachel had insisted before attending to the class that she and Puck wore appropriate clothes as to accompany Quinn even if their participation on the exercises was merely to show their emotional support) they rolled up their sleeves and got to business, boiling the water and grounding the basil leaves with the garlic, the nuts and the olive oil.

Rachel was really excited. While daily displays of affection were exchanged with her dad and daddy, it wasn't often that she got to do something really special for them. She wished she could, but becoming a star was no pastime so she often dedicated her free time to perfect her skills. But since Quinn was living with her she found she was more relaxed and not nearly as obsessed with stardom as she used to. Mind you, she still wanted it really bad, but there was some sort of clarity and peace of mind in not dedicating every single awake moment to it. It made it all the more precious and she could, for once, feel like she was a normal teenage girl and not a slushie target outcast.

(Her seventeenth birthday was next month and she was _actually_ planning a somewhat party.)

They were on the middle of a spaghetti fight when Rachel's phone started buzzing. Taking a much needed breath after all the laughing and doing her best to ignore Puck and his comical act of dying by touching a nut, Rachel fished her phone from her hoodie pocket and answered the call. "Hi Daddy!" Quinn joined Puck in the joke and started throwing little pieces of nuts with surprisingly good aim, which hit him plain in the chest, with Puck pretending they were deadly. "Yes, that was indeed very nice of Roger," she agreed, a scowl darkening her featured. Puck and Quinn stopped messing around and stared at her, alerted by the sudden, yet admirably disguised change in her tone, that something was off. "Well, call me when you get there and have a lovely time," Rachel smiled tightly and kept the evident sadness pooling in her eyes from manifesting in her voice. "I love you too Daddy. Tell Dad I love him too. Bye."

She avoided her eyes as she marched resolute to the stove and turned off the gas and worried herself over the counter top, her hands all over the place but only anxiously rearranging the mess instead of clearing it up.

"Daddy's business partner lent them his condo in San Diego for the weekend," she said finally. "They figured they'd better drive off right after work so they can get there early tomorrow and enjoy three whole days, which I think it's highly sensitive since it's such a long drive--."

"They're not stopping by?" Quinn asked quietly as she made her way to stand next to Rachel.

She shook her head like it was no big deal. "There's no need. After all, they can purchase all their necessities when they get there, which will also be a fine entertaining activity for them to engage in. I'm sure San Diego has a very interesting shopping market and really--," the tears she was fighting back made it all the way down to her throat, forming a most obnoxious lump that made it harder to speak.

Quinn suppressed a snort. Rachel's dads were cool, but sometimes they were also completely clueless to their daughter's feelings, like when they offhandedly mentioned how glad they were that Rachel finally had a friend and how they always expected her to be this mature, responsible freak of nature. Seriously, she was sixteen! What kind of parents would leave their teenage daughter alone for a whole weekend knowing terrible things happened all the time?

And it wasn't just the romantic getaways weekends. During her stay at the Berry household, Quinn had noticed them off quite a few times, often for over a week. Rachel's Daddy Leroy was some big, successful suit and his company usually sent him on conference and business trips, and he was always followed by Rachel's Dad Hiram, who was self employed and could easily clear his schedule to accompany his life partner throughout the country. They had no qualms in leaving their daughter behind, and to go by the way Rachel was used to it, Quinn was sure that things had been like that for quite some time.

"Well, you know what this means," Quinn mentioned suggestively. Rachel stared at her quizzically while Puck –abandoned by the goofiness that had possessed him moments ago- frowned gloomily. "Sleepover!" she ginned wickedly.

"But we live together," Rachel pointed out frowning. "How's that different from a sleepover?"

"Well, for starters, Puck has to stay," Quinn retorted. "And we would be watching horror movies and eating junk food and pulling an allnighter. You know," she elbowed Rachel playfully. "Sleepover-y stuff."

Rachel had no idea what Quinn was talking about, having never ever been to a sleepover before, but she imagined that, while seemingly fun, it should be reserved for a weekend. "Tonight's a school night," she objected wisely. "Maybe we can have the sleepover tomorrow so the inevitable side effects won't affect our attendance--."

"No, it has to be tonight!" Quinn insisted and glanced at Puck for support.

(Because if it wasn't tonight, Rachel would get upset the moment she went to bed. And neither Quinn nor Puck wanted that.)

"If Quinn wasn't pregnant and you weren't like, crazy and I wasn't face down the bottom of the popularity pyramid, we would totally be having a weekend long party," he nodded. "Sleepover don't sound so bad I guess."

"Then it's settled!" Quinn clapped. "You go get lots and lots of burgers and fries and ice cream while we clean this up and get everything ready."

"I don't think I have any horror movies," Rachel mentioned, mentally checking her vast DVD collection. "Does Mel Gibson's Signs count?"

Puck stared at her for a moment before deciding that no, she wasn't kidding. "I'll stop by my place first and pick some movies," he decided as he untied his apron.

Okay, so most people thought Puck and Finn had initially became friends with Matt and Mike due to the numerous sports they played as kids and while it was somewhat accurate, it really wasn't the reason they first started to hang out of practice. Finn and Puck were naïve nine year olds with a tendency to get in trouble when they decided to crash into the movie theater without paying. Their plan was a full success, they managed to sneak in and out just fine, but the significance of that day ran deeper. The movie they saw was The Ring and soon their eyes were glued to the screen. Puck couldn't this very day explain why it was that both of them were hooked on horror movies (seriously, he had nightmares every night after seeing it and he was wary of strange unnamed videotapes and Finn's bladder control was dangerously put to test) but they were and soon enough Finn and him were digging into Blockbuster and watching every horror movie at hand.

Two years later and with a significantly enlarged knowledge in the horror genre, they ran into Matt and Mike in blockbuster who were, incidentally, renting Jaws, the same movie Finn and Puck intended to rent that night. The traditional weekly spooky night (baptized as such by Finn) welcomed Mike and Matt at once.

So, yeah, Puck was schooled in the art of watching horror movies and his collection was insane. When he returned to Rachel's house half an hour later, he carried with him some of his favorites: IT (the clown is the definitions of the word scary), Poltergeist (unholy things crossing through the statics? Thank fuck for the invention of 24 hour TV), Saw (if you ever wanted to take a tour down the sick twisted mind of a serial killer, you'd think twice after watching that one), Hell raiser (there's a cool zombie, a hot crazy chick swinging a hammer and an unded dude with pins sticking out of his head. Awe-freaking-some), The Blair Witch Project (guaranteed bladder control tester), Psycho (the original one, not the crappy remake), The Exorcist (positively the best horror movie in the history, Puck still had nightmares of Linda Blair downing the stairs) and, _of course_, The Shinning (one word pops his mind when he thought of that movie: disturbing).

Several hours later, Rachel and Quinn were fast asleep, cacooned in a blanket on the couch while Puck drifted in and out of sleep face down to the mattress they had previously insisted he carried down the stairs from the attic. He'd had a lot of fun that night. With a wicked grin he remembered all the times he'd sneaked behind them during specially scary parts on the films and had them screeching like maniacs. Quinn had cried hysterically watching the exorcist (they had to wait for her to go up her room and return holding a crucifix before they could continue watching it) and Rachel had come up with her own personal mantra every time she got the shit scared out of her (this is a very valuable life experience and as an actress I'll inevitably need it some day. And that dog in the street is just barking because he likes to!).

He was glad Quinn had come up with the sleepover idea to cheer Rachel up. In all honesty, he was seriously pissed her dads for leaving her hanging like this. Okay, so it was their anniversary and all, but who leaves to San Diego for the weekend and don't stop by to say good-bye to his daughter? That was shitty parenting in his book, and Puck knew a lot of shitty parenting.

(The look in Rachel's face when they told her they were leaving? Fucking broken. Puck did not like that.)

He heard heavy shifting on the couch and a weepy sigh. Guess someone wasn't sleeping also.

Carefully, Rachel sat up and exited the blanket wrapping her. Without making so much as a sound she stepped out of the couch and round his mattress tiptoeing her way to the kitchen. Puck waited until she was gone to follow her.

If you were thinking he wanted to sneak up on her again and giving what would surely be the scare of a lifetime, you would be so undoubtedly wrong it would be pathetic. Last thing Puck wanted was scare her.

Because while it had been a fun night, he still caught her a few times checking her cell for any messages or missed calls from her dads and having repeatedly found none, Rachel would get this recurrent look in her deep brown eyes that said she wasn't having as much fun as she wished, and when Quinn asked her (again, repeatedly) if she was Okay, she would just shrug it off and insist she was just a little edgy because of the "incessantly violent and psychologically disturbing content of the films they were watching".

Puck found her leaning her back to the kitchen island holding a glass half full of water and pensively staring at the fridge. He didn't quite get her features, since it was dark and she had bravely went about the house without turning any lights on, even though they'd spent the majority of the night watching movies that would have the bravest on man crying for a night light.

(He figured that said a lot about her, though. Like she felt blindfoldedly safe in her home.)

He moved past the threshold, not slow enough for it to be considered stalkerish or too fast to startle her. Rachel caught his movements from the corner of her eye and set the glass next to her on the island. "You had trouble sleeping too?" she whispered and he nodded. Puck saw her smile through the veil of shadows. "Scared of the monsters?" she joked.

"Hell no," he replied leaning next to her. "I'm a badass. Monsters should be scared of me."

Her chuckles elicited a very deep, very primitive feeling inside Puck and for the life of him he could not stop staring into (not at, _into_) the brown pools of her eyes. And then it hit him, the intensiveness of her look, the slight parting of her lips as she run her tongue over them to wet them, wanting, anticipating...

The barely masked innuendos, the feathery touches and sparkling eyes? That flirting game they'd both been playing for the past week?

Most definitely done with by now.

His hand ghosted up to her cheek and gently caressed her, relishing in the softness of her skin. His fingers trailed lazily to her lips, the air she suddenly gasped in passing right through them. Rachel leaned on his touch never breaking the eye contact that Puck was sure would be the end of him at one point or another. He had thought that he had already seen how much sentiment she could pour into a song and her looks made you feel it, but right now, as close to the other as they were and feeling his fingers tingle with tense, bewildered anticipation, Puck knew there was more of Rachel Berry than met the eye.

It was in a breath that he cupped her face and leaned down to press his lips to hers, nibbling unsure at first (because there was still that small, infuriatingly annoying part of his conscience that told him she was going to back away because he was a Lima loser). He was so close. In his dreams, kissing Rachel was like this religious experience that elevated him to Heaven while they made out on cloud eleven.

(Puck was not an idiot. He knew what it was like to make out with Rachel -hello? they dated- what kept him on tenterhooks right now was that kissing and making out were abysmally different.)

It felt like hours, but really it was just a moment before Rachel responded to the kiss tugging on his lower lip and rounding his neck with her hands.

(Right there? Heaven.)

Puck wasn't exactly sure when the kiss stopped being sweet and exploratory and turned into this raw, desperate driven need to suck into each other. Maybe it was when he run his tongue over her lips asking for entrance, or when Rachel eagerly massaged her tongue to his, a sultry moan deep in her throat; maybe it was when his hands run down her body and settled around her waist, his fingers burning against the fabric, pulling her flush against him, though probably it was when Rachel decided they weren't close enough and pushed him against the island and positioned herself between his momentarily opened legs, which Puck widened further as to decrease his height and having a better access to his personal piece of heaven. Somehow, they ended up clinging to each other, with Rachel sitting on the island (her buckling knees refused to cooperate), digging her fingers on his arms and shoulders, and Puck keeping her stable with one hand on the small of her back, under the shirt, and the other on her hip, her name escaping his lips every time she ground her hips closer to him or tugged on his lip with her teeth.

He did know, however, exactly how the kiss ended.

_"Puck! Rachel!"_ Quinn cried from the living room. _"Something's wrong!"_

They didn't even have time to look at each other in the eye to try to figure out what that kiss meant. It didn't even crossed their minds to take the time to do so. Just as they jumped off each other they run out of the kitchen and into the living room, finding Quinn sitting up straight with her eyes tightly closed, worrying her lower lip as she rubbed her belly, a lonely tear making its way down her cheek.

Something was obviously wrong.

"It hurts," she cringed as both Rachel and Puck knelt in front of her, taking Puck hand to feel the pressure on the higher part of her abdomen. "I was just sleeping and I woke up in pain--" she closer her eyes again as she felt the rush of the pain havoc on her senses.

"Everything is going to be just fine, Quinn," Rachel assured her maintaining her tone fearless when she was feeling anything but. "Noah?"

"Get the coats, we're going to the hospital," his voice didn't sound like his. It sounded far away and empty and shallow.

Quinn cried during the whole seven minutes it took his to get to the hospital, her nose buried in the crook of Rachel's neck, her knees stubbornly pressed together, as if opening her legs would damage to the baby. Rachel did not mention he was exceeding the speed limit: she was focusing solely in holding Quinn's hand tightly and singing some lullaby on her ear.

They were instantly taken to the maternity ward when they reached the hospital and Quinn was seen just as quickly. Pregnant girls who cried in pain accompanied by a mohawked glaring dude and a crazy midget forcefully demanding to be seen to took precedence over most other patients. Quinn was taken away to a private room to examine her and Puck and Rachel were left alone in the waiting room, with their coats thrown hazily over their pajamas and their feet bare against the cold tiles of the floor.

Rachel's hand anchored him as she firmly clasped his and will him to sit next to her on a nearby bench, their joined hands resting over her lap. It was pretty much the only thing that kept him from tackling into the exam room and demanding to know what was going on with his daughter.

He couldn't bare the though of _something being _wrong with her. Quinn was only thirty one weeks along and he knew from all the baby books and Discovery Channel specials he'd watched that while it wasn't as early as other preterm labours, it still held some complications for the baby, like low birthweight and troubled lung function. He could actually hear Rachel in his head reminding him that "about 96% of the babies born between twenty eight and thirty one weeks of gestation held serious chances of survival" (he'd totally memorized the books). But that was like some number to him right now, and trying to believe it was a fact was not helping him right now. Because if it was then that meant there was a 4% of babies that didn't survive.

And that ws not a pretty thing to think about.

A nurse came a while later and told them they hadn't detected any sign of preterm labour but that they were monitoring her for contractions and trying to find out what was causing the pain Quinn complained about. When asked if they could see her, the nurse shook her head and told them that they were trying to convince her to relax and that the doctor doubted having them hovering over Quinn was the best course of action.

That was not well received. Rachel voiced her displeasure for the highly unsympathetic behaviour her friend was being treated with, given that she was probably scared all alone in the room she'd been wheeled to and that Rachel _for sure_ knew better than the doctor what would be the best course of action to keep Quinn relaxed.

The nurse paled under Puck and Rachel's gloomy glares and scattered away first chance she got.

Doing the responsible thing (now that the fear of preterm labour had been somewhat placated) Rachel took it upon herself to inform Puck's mother about their nightly whereabouts, given that he was busy pacing and hadn't so much as spoken a word to her since they'd reached the hospital.

(Which she was honestly not angry about. That was after all his baby, and Rachel knew when the spotlight, however unexpected and certainly undesired, just wasn't hers.)

So she sat following him with her eyes, focusing on happy thoughts about Quinn and the baby (the attraction law was almost a scientific fact: if you thought something bad could happen, you were neon signing all the dark vives around you to make sure something bad indeed happens), about how Quinn was going to carry on with her pregnancy until the baby was ready to be born, how she would be performing that special number they had come up with her for Regionals, how that little girl was going to be so happy growing up with the lovely couple Quinn and Noah had chosen to be her parents and how she was the luckiest baby girl in the world because she was immensely loved by her mom and dad. On occasion she stood up and leaned against the wall, which would make Noah lean next to her for a couple of minutes, and then they would sit again, comfortably silent and holding hands.

That's how Sarah Puckerman found them when she arrived several minutes later acompanied (shockingly) by Quinn's parents.

It's an awkward moment as the three grown ups approach them. Sarah and Mrs. Fabray are showering them with questions, but Puck's mother seems taken back by the fact that her son and Rachel were holding hands (probably not the best timing for her Jewish maternal match-making skills to kick in, but it's not like she can help it). Mr. Fabray notices too, only instead of displaying a mixture of hopefulness and relief, he just looks pissed.

And he doesn't ask not one question about his daughter's well-being.

Just as Rachel's summarizing the events of the night and what the nurse told them, a doctor in his middle twenties approached them holding a chart and fishing his cell phone out of a pocket in his scrubs. "You Quinn Fabray's family?" he asked mildly meeting Mr. Fabray's eyes and texting like there was no tomorrow.

"She and the baby Okay?" Puck asked quickly, his hold on Rachel's hand becoming tighter.

"Yes," the doctor nodded, a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips. "Turns out the pain was just an indigestion and the ultrasound showed the baby was inconveniently pressing part of her stomach, making digestion rather painful."

"Thank God," Mrs. Fabray breathed out, her hand reaching to calm her fast beating heart. Her husband gave her a look that clearly said 'thou shall not take the Lord's name in vain'.

"We also detected a bladder infection," the doctor went on. "Nothing serious, but it's good we caught it right on time. We put her in antibiotics so she should be fine and you can take her home in the morning. And I strongly recommend a change in her diet," he added. "When I asked her what she ate today she listed the amount of food a small family go through in a week."

"Thank you, Doctor," Sarah nodded and smiled to her son. "Well, this is such a relief."

"Sure is," Mr. Fabray growled and addressed his wife. "Let's get out of here now."

Sarah sighed and shook her head. She'd really thought they coming here after she called him and told him about Quinn being in the hospital meant the shaky ground her relationship with her parents may work out for the best. Puck glared at the little dude (because no amount of height or weight in the world could make someone so petty be anything but a shitty worm), feeling Rachel's hand slip away and her demeanor change dramatically.

"You're leaving?" she asked with something akin to disgust tainting her words. "Your daughter just went through the prelude of a soon-to-be-mother's nightmare, and while nothing bad happened, it doesn't mean she wasn't scared or that she doesn't need all the support she can get."

Mr. Fabray, shocked in the spot, didn't look the tiniest bit embarrased. "Who _are_ you?"

That just about did it. "I'm Quinn's friend, and now that you ask, you might as well know she's living with me!"

He sneered loudly. "You knock her up and you don't even put a roof over her head?" he spitted at Puck.

Before his temper kicked in (and it was damn close), Sarah stepped in front of Mr. Fabray. "He has done more for Quinn and the baby than you. You should be ashamed of yourself. What kind of parent kicks his child out the street when she need him the most?"

(Talk about your Jewish guilt trip.)

Mr. Fabray, however, was quite relentless. "I'm not taking parenting advises from a divorcée Lima loser."

(Remember that temper Sarah wanted to keep from erupting in her son? It was volcano out.)

Puck didn't actually got to deck the guy like he itched to, though he did get the satisfaction of watching him back down staring at him like a terrified kitten (one of the many benefits of being a badass was that he got to pull out his satanic look on demand). Surprisingly, Mrs. Fabray decided to step in.

"Alan, go home," she said icily. "I'm staying with my daughter."

"No," her husband replied just as coldly (no wonder Quinn was such an ice bitch sometimes). "You're coming with me. I'm not related to that lying, promiscuous excuse of a daughter and I'll be damned if I spend another minute here."

"Fine," she gritted out forcefully. "Then go home, get your things and go away. I'm taking her home with me and you'd better not be there when I do," she threatened him, her arms crossed over her chest as she proudly backed him further to the exit. "I've had enough of you, and I want my Quinnie back."

Mr. Fabray turned a very ugly shade of red as he witnessed his wife growing hte balls to call him on his crap. "You'll regret this," he assured her as he turned around and left.

"I won't."

* * *

The middle aged woman sitting behind the desk outside Figgins office gave him an once over and leered on the sight of Puck as he handed her the neatly folded doctor's note that explained why Quinn Fabray couldn't be attending school that day due to her recent admission to the hospital. He also held out another note signed by his mother to justify his and Rachel's class skipping for the day.

Puck suppressed a shiver as he felt the woman's eyes bore into his back as he walked out. He fully admitted cougars were in some aspects better than teenage girls, but even he had standards. And he would rather do Sue Sylvester that touching Figgins assistant (and he did _not_, under any circumstance, want to do Sylvester).

As he walked out the school he noticed the people on the halls look at him sideways and whispering, which wasn't exactly new but today he found it hard to brush over his shoulder. He blamed the lack of sleep for that.

"Hey man," Tom greeted him on the parking lot just as Jake and Luke exited his car (he was their daily ride).

"What's with the NYU t-shirt?" Jake asked noticing the shirt Puck was wearing.

Rachel had given it to him last night when he intended to participate on the sleepover wearing his sweats. She'd told him it wasn't fair she and Quinn were wearing pajamas and he looked normal, so she rushed upstairs and came back holding one of her dads old collage t-shirts, telling him her dad wouldn't mind (she'd also ogled him as he removed his sweatshirt and wife-beater right in front of her and pulled on the NYU t-shirt -it was all part of that flirting game they'd been playing, and it sure payed off- and told him it looked great on him. Now he didn't want to take it off).

With a sigh, Puck leaned against the hood, rubbed his eyes and summarized what had happen last night, from the Lamaze class to the Fabray family drama, only leaving out his rendezvous with Rachel before Quinn had to be rushed to the hospital. Man, he was tired. Tom, Jake and Luke voiced their sympathy and told him if they needed help with the moving then he shouldn't think twice about asking and that they'd carry on any message he had for any of the gleeks if Puck didn't feel like informing everybody of the events of the night. With a snort he'd told them that if the gleeks wanted a piece of information to gossip any further then they should take the trouble of picking up their damn phones and ask him themselves (with the sole exception of Artie, of course, who was allowed to know what had happened as long as he kept his mouth shut. Puck did not want to feed the multiple headed, secret starving monster that was New Directions).

The bell had long rang by the time he finished his recount and his friends (yay!) were still standing there with him on the parking lot. Maybe they sensed (admittedly correct) that there was still something Puck wanted to talk about. Sighing, because, really he needed to get it off his chest, he added "I kissed Rachel last night."

Luke playfully punched his arm. "About time dude!"

"Yeah, it was funny seeing you two eye-sexing for the past week, but at one point it kinda got awkward," Jake mentioned. "So what happens now?"

"You should ask her on a date," Tom suggested wisely. "Chicks totally dig romance."

Puck stared at then flatly. "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm having a baby! That doesn't exactly say boyfriend material," he rubbed his eyes. "I don't know _what_ I was thinking."

"Yeah," Tom's brow furrowed. "But it's not really a shocker, you know. Rachel already knows about your... _situation_... and she's still into you."

"And you've been pining over her long enough, man," Jake added sternly. "It's time you let yourself catch a break."

Puck remained silent and avoided their gazes, starting to believe this whole talk was a monumental mistake.

"I kinda see his point, though," Luke said quietly. Three heads snapped up to stare at him. "I mean, relationships are messy and hard and you have to work on them," he might as well said 'that's why I'm not into one'. "And Puck's up his armpits with the baby, and Quinn, and the whole fucking school hating him and shit. Plus, you really like her," he pointed out staring directly a Puck. "It figures you don't screw up yet another time."

If Puck had trouble finding exactly what it was that was keeping him from marching over to Rachel and ask her to go into the sunset with him holding hands, then he felt Luke had eloquently searched through his head and put words to those thought Puck refused to listen to. It was kind of sad hat he was so easy to read.

"I'm gay," Tom blurted out out of the blue.

Puck, Jake and Luke gaped at him. Tom started to get slightly pink on the cheeks under their stare.

"Where the hell did that come from?" Jake dared to speak first.

"Well, Puck was obviously getting uncomfortable with the topic and I figured I'd, you know, change it."

"By coming out of the closet?"

He fidgeted awkwardly. "My dad thought it'd be a good way to bond and create a better team spirit atmosphere if we trusted each other with secrets and stuff."

"Well," Puck scratched his brow. "Congrats man. You're not into us, are you?"

"You're not my type," Tom grinned apologetically. "Sorry if you guys think this is too private--"

"Don't sweat it," Jake brushed of his concerns. "I'd rather hear you confessing your undying love for men on leather shorts than Luke's disgusting rash."

He laughed at his own joke accompanied by Puck and Tom. Luke didn't see the funny part. "The doctor said the ointment would help!" he reminded them tugging his sweatshirt up in an attempt to show them the progress of the healing process. "See?"

"Okay, so we have Tom's sexual inclinations, Puck's cliched love for the hot chick he used to bully and Luke's need for over-sharing his gross bodily functions," Jake listed, getting a nod from the other guys. "Guess that means I have to own up and reveal something embarrassing about myself."

"Or we could just address to that crush you have on my baby mama," Puck said carelessly and smirked as Jake turned pale under his eyes.

"You-- you know?"

"Rachel's psychic and totally picked on your vibes," he grinned unrepentantly.

"So, are you going to kill me or what?" Jake laughed nervously. Puck was, after all, incredibly fond of his nunchunks.

"Nah. I think it'll be fun seeing you pulling on the moves. But just so you know," he turned serious. "Finn is a giant and he has a nice left hook. So, you know, watch out."

* * *

He was supposed to pick up Rachel at noon and get Quinn's stuff to her mother's. So why was Noah Puckerman standing in her doorway at 8:43 am? Because he was an idiot.

He knocked on her door but no one answered. He texted her, but she did not reply. He tried calling her but it went straight to voice mail. He shouldn't be surprised though. When he'd dropped her off before going to the school she'd mentioned she intended to crawl into bed and recover some of the sleep the impromptu sleepover and the hospital scare had taken from her. Puck himself had decided going straight home and crash on his own bed before it was time to go back to her house and pack Quinn's stuff, but he'd found himself driving to Rachel's.

Luke's words rang loud on his head. Puck really didn't want to screw things up with Rachel, but what did that mean? What should he do?

Whatever it was, he had the itch to do it now. So, he opened the front door with the spare key he new Rachel kept inside the birdhouse and let himself in.

Everything was quiet and he figured she was upstairs in her room, so he tiptoed his way up making sure he didn't make any unnecessary noise that might startle her.

(He pushed aside the thought that he was completely alone in a house with Rachel. This was not the time to revive any of his fantasies.)

Sure enough, he found her curled up in a ball in her bed hugging herself and sound sleep, her lips slightly parted and breathing calmly and quietly. He saw her shiver a little and reached for a spare blanket over her chair to cover her, brushing a rich brown lock of her face.

Without a second though, Puck kicked off his shoes and spread his wide frame next to her and covered himself with blanket, laying close enough to feel her breathe and smell her scent.

That thing he itched to tell her? It could wait till the end of their nap.

* * *

**Now you can leave me a long juicy review telling me how much you loved this chapter (you did great with last chapter BTW!).**

**I haven't actually watched most of the movies Puck mentions, because, well, they scare me. I did watch IT and The Exorcist though (which is why I'm resolute against the horror genre. I do not like being scared) and the rest I know from hearsay. Let me know if I made any mistake on the movie references.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	10. Haha moment

**You guys rock! Your reviews are insane! I love you!**

**So here's the second part and for those of you who wanted to see more of the wrestling team and the return of Douche!Finn, here it is.**

**A million thanks to reluctant-l for letting me borrow her Glock term. She claims it was her creation and I believe her (hopefully it'll stick!) and if you haven't read her fic "That's when I love you" I strongly suggest you go and do so.**

**After reading this chapter, of course.**

**If I owned Glee I'd do naughty things to Puck.**

Chapter ten: Haha moment.

Finn had homeroom with Quinn and Puck, a time he used to spent stealing playful kisses from his girlfriend and joking around with his best friend, back when things were cool and easy and they hadn't royally screwed him over. Nowadays, he pretended to be deaf so he wouldn't have to hear them talking, and stubbornly stared at the wall in front of him so he wouldn't see Quinn rubbing her belly, often allowing Puck feel the kicks, and ignoring their general existence as they sat together in the back of the classroom as far from him as humanly possible. Only today he wasn't doing any of this things. Why? Because Quinn and Puck weren't there.

Not that he cared or anything (he didn't!), but it was odd. Quinn was a straight A student and she did not condone tardiness, and Puck, well, Finn had noticed that he uncharacteristically attended all of his classes on a regular basis lately. The two doucheroids Puck was so buddy-buddy with were there occupying their usual seats, but Finn didn't really care about them. He didn't even know their names.

(Tom Ritchie and Jake Murtough. Sophomores. Wrestling team. Debate team and Chess club respectively.)

Either way, it's not like he was gonna go over them and doing something stupid like asking where were his back- stabbing former best friend and girlfriend. He didn't care nor needed to know where they were, and if Puck didn't make it to the basketball game that night, well, then that was his problem. It's not like they needed him to win or anything; the school they were playing sucked even more than McKinley did so Coach Tanaka was very sure about probably winning. They could do just fine without Puck (even if he was insanely good with the whole man-to-man-defence cause he could like intimidate the other guy and shit.)

(This one time in freshman year the player he was guarding got so freaked out by Puck's glare and under-his-breath threats that he actually passed him the ball to get him to like, STOP staring at him like that. It was really impressive.)

But whatever, he still didn't care to know where he was and _asking _his new _friends _about it was like the lamest thing ever. He'd never talked to them before and he wasn't gonna start now. The only interaction he kinda wanted to get on with them was seriously kicking their ass, because-- well, because they were like newbie jocks now and they had to get their asses kicked at some point, in a way of friendly welcome.

(Only it wouldn't be so friendly, because there was going to be blood involved. And it ain't gonna be his.)

That Murtough dude was staring at him pointedly and Finn was really getting pissed. Was he like giving him a reason to start the ass kicking? Cause if he was, Finn was all in for that (remember: friendly-not-so-friendly way. It had nothing to do with the dudes being Puck's friends).

"Whatcha staring at fucktard?" he called out as he approached them.

Jake stared at him amusedly. "Just entertaining a fantasy of mine where you grow some balls and fight someone who actually retaliates."

"Did you even want anything, Hudson?" Tom asked tiredly before Finn had a chance to pound into Jake. "Or were you just towering over us and try to intimidate us?"

"You're failing admirably, just so you know," Jake added with a mild smile.

Fists ready to jump for action, he said the most stupid thing he'd ever said (and he'd said a lot of stupid things). "Seen Puckerman today? Cause if he ditch us tonight he's gonna need you guys to save his ass, just so you know."

Tom and Jake shared this secretive, evil look before they started laughing at him.

(Finn did not like to be laughed at.)

"If you wanna know what happened, why don't you just call them?" Tom dared him.

(He just said 'them', right? And he sort of admitted that something did happen? With Quinn and Puck? What the fuck?)

"I wouldn't if I were you," Jake advised him. "I mean, after the rough night they had I doubt they pick up the phone."

"You're right," Tom sighed dejectedly. "Didn't Puck say he was taking the day of to get things worked out?"

"I thought he was going to Rachel's."

"Or was it Quinn's?"

"Gee, sorry man," Jake shook his head lamely. "Guess we're no good source of information."

"Hudson," the teacher warned from the desk, picking up on Finn's murderous vibes.

He didn't care. He was Finn Hudson, he though bitterly as he stormed out of the classroom, and he did not get trash-talked and played by losers. He quickly texted Matt, Mike and the guys on the football and basketball teams (he left Kurt out on purpose: he was pretty sure the extraordinaire diva wouldn't approve of what he planned to do) and told them to meet him on the gym asap. Two months ago he was sure both teams would have brushed him off, but with the Puck situation and the retaliation that had followed, Finn was happy to say he had been reinstated to his natural place up in McKinley High's social pyramid. He didn't wondered if the guys would be there waiting for him: it was a fact.

Ten minutes later, he was proved correct. "I think it's time we welcome the wrestling team," he said with a dark smirk. "McKinley style."

They all smirked back.

(And they succeeded phenomenally as they ignored _who _had conceived the McKinley style in the first place.)

* * *

"I just don't understand how you intend to be an active part of our group when you don't know the scales," Kurt wondered immensely annoyed to the fourteen seniors sitting in the choir room. "Lets try it one more time," he sighed and his fingers positioned over the piano keys. "What note am I playing?"

"B?" one of the guys ventured. When he was met with Kurt's heated glare, he flinched noticeably. "C?"

It was official. They truly were goats.

"I'm sorry, but what exactly does this have to do with singing with you guys?" the girl sitting front and centre cut in impatiently. "I mean, you sing songs, you don't go on stage play notes. It's easier with words," she nodded as her fellow classmates agreed with her. "Maybe we should give that a shot."

Kurt gave her a long suffering look. It was bad enough that he had to teach them the basics of musical training, but to have them questioning the material? And his teaching methods? Unheard of.

"This is the music sheet for the back vocals of 'Don't stop me now', which happens to be one of the songs we're performing at Regionals, merely over two weeks from now," he held out the neat piece of paper from the red folder resting over the smooth surface of the piano. "Would you mind singing it for me?" Kurt asked with a tight smile. "It has _words_."

The girl (Kelly) walked to him and took the music sheet. The lyrics were there and she'd heard the song before, but the way the words were written with all those notes and horizontal lines (how was it Kurt had said they were called? cliffs? claffs? something like that?) they made absolutely no sense. Her cheeks grew red as she tried to sing, but the words came out like murder out of her mouth.

Kurt grinned triumphally. "That's what I thoutght. Now, let's start on C1 and work our way up--"

Mercedes and Tina walked in shortly after. The seniors almost stopped going through the notes when they saw them walk in but one warning look from Kurt and they were back to struggling with the scale. The girls were holding several yellow fabric samples, measuring tapes and lots and lots of pillow material. "Have you seen Rachel, Kurt?" Tina asked breathless as she deposited the costume materials on a nearby chair.

"No," he replied unaffected. "She was AWOL at homeroom this morning; probably got slushied and had to change."

"Well, we need to take her measures for the bump," Mercedes commented as she wrote something down on her notepad. "She's the tiniest of us and I have to make sure she don't look like she'd trying to sneak a basketball under her dress."

"Tiffany if you butcher that note again I will bitch slap you so hard your grandchildren will be ugly," Kurt warned mildly pinning poor Tiffany with one of his darkest scowls. "Have you tried texting her?" he said, his attention focused on his friend.

"Her phone's dead," she rolled her eyes. Tina held out two yellow pieces of the same fabric but slightly diferent tone and Mercedes shook her head. Tina put away the darker shade. "So is Quinn's for that matter."

"How inconvenient. Remove that scowl off your face, Ronnie. I want to see happy smiles!" he sing sang barely holding back his bubbling temper. "Did you tried Puck's?

"Like I'm talking to tall, dark and douchy," she snorted.

Tina pulled out her phone and texted Puck. Minutes passed and she didn't get a reply. She just shrugged. "Maybe they don't want to talk to us."

"Who cares? I'll just wing it and we'll see if _Narrow_-way has anything to say about her costume," Mercedes smirked sharing a spiteful look with Kurt.

"What if something happened to them?"

Kurt's fingers stopped moving over the keys as his head, Mercedes' and Tina's tilted up to stare at the senior who had dared cut in their conversation.

The senior girl mumbled something about being sorry and focused pointedly on her music sheet ignoring the furious blush up her cheeks.

Kurt's gossip radar, however, became instantly alerted. "We're done here," he clapped his hands and stood up. "I wish could say you were great," he addressed to his 'students' "but you weren't. You were horrendous and you should all be very ashamed of yourselves. Tatá!"

* * *

"But Quinn and the baby are Okay, right?" Artie asked again just to be sure.

Tom and Luke flanked him as they walked and wheeled down the crowded hallway. "Yeah, it was just some nasty indigestion," Luke assured him as he patted Artie's shoulder. "But listen, man, you have to keep this quiet."

"Puck really doesn't want the rest of the Glee Club finding out," Tom added.

"Find out what?" Kurt asked jumping in front of them.

(Artie was kind of used to his dramatic entrances, so he didn't as much as blinked. Luke, however, did not see him coming and was caught completely off guard. He emitted a sound that could only be described as a girly squeak. Tom was highly amused by his friend's edginess.)

"Dude!" Luke panted as he shoved his hand to his chest to calm his pounding heart. "You can't sneak up on people like that!"

Kurt shot him an unaffected look. "I was merely wondering if you could point me to where tall, dark and mohawked, his baby momma and Ms. Thing are."

"Who's Ms. Thing?" Luke frowned.

With a slight but ever present cringe, Artie said "He means Rachel."

"You call Rachel a thing?" Tom crossed his arms up his chest and scowled at Kurt. "That's not cool, dude."

"Yeah, she's like the nicest girl I've ever met," Luke agreed taking a stern stance. "She's always baking cookies for us."

(Rachel was Puck's girl whether they were in an actual relationship or not, and the Bro Code compelled them to stand up for her.)

(And her cookies were really good.)

"I am not a dude," he retorted offended. "And I'm shocked of your lack of knowledge on nowadays music icons."

"_What_ever," Tom rolled his eyes and turned around followed by Luke. With an inscrutable last look for Kurt, Artie wheeled to his next class.

They had left him standing on his own in the middle of the hallway and without sharing the information Kurt knew they had.

He had never been this uniquely ignored his entire life.

It was outrageous.

* * *

The cafeteria buzzed with the sound of plastic trays being heavily deposited on the tables, the slow walking down the line to get the questionably state board approved food served that day and the incessant chatting of McKinley High students.

The seating disposition was the epitome of the current social hierarchy. Each section was destined for each specific stratus and the sub-groups within them. The top of the pyramid (read: jocks of the variety of the athletic sports teams and cheerleaders) occupied the best located tables (by the windows) which ensured them the possibility of being seen and admired by the rest of the student body as they ate their lunch in the noticeably more damaged tables with no nice view whatsoever.

The wrestling team was relatively new and as such it had not earned it's own table by the window, so they regularly took their seat down the middle of the cafeteria and by the aisle.

"Do you think if we win next week Figgins will get us letterman jackets?" Luke asked absentmindedly as he picked on his macaroni and cheese. "I mean, we're in sports team. I kinda want to show off."

"I'll settle for new singlets," Tom said frowning. Who knew where Figgins had dug up their uniforms from. "They sure ain't second hand, if you know what I mean."

Luke's face lit up like a Christmas tree for a second, being hit by the realization of something. One moment later, he turned green with disgust. "You don't think that's where my rash comes from, don't you?"

Jake stared at him looking every bit like he wanted to slap him and shake him. "Tell me you washed it before you wore it the first time."

"Well, I could tell you, but I'd be lying," his friend retorted failing at hiding his embarrassment.

"You should always desinfect your garment," Gertie shook her head. "It's made of _spandex. _It grows things."

"Man, I hope it's not contagious," Tom shoved his tray ahead of him. That conversation had done wonders for his appetite. "Cause if it is I'll--"

They never got to know what he was going to do if Luke's mysterious rash was contagious.

Tom was instantly frozen (no pun intended) and could not for the life of him move an inch of his body no matter how loud his brain yelled.

Jake bolted up and was cursing loudly as he rubbed the corn syrup off his eyes.

Luke was screaming bloody murder and hugging Gertie.

Gertie was crying.

And people were _laughing_.

They had been just epically slushied by what looked like the never before so united football and basketball team players.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" Tom came out of his daze in a rush and joined Luke and Jake as they faced their 'fellow' jocks side by side. Gertie was left sobbing at the table.

Standing front row of the mass of letterman jackets, Finn smirked at the icky wrestling team. "Just a little hazing guys," he shrugged with a dark glint barely hidden in his eyes. "Though your boy Puck had warned you. He's the one who turned slushies into a verb, you know."

Backing away from a crowd of jocks that outnumbered them by far instead of getting into what promised to be the fight of fights and losing it admirably may be wise and reasonable and the right thing to do.

But as Tom, Jake and Luke dragged a very upset Gertie down to the double doors leaving a trace of multicolored icy goo in their wake, hearing nothing but laughing and crude comments from the student body present, it really felt like _the _worst experience they had ever gone through.

* * *

Puck sincerely hoped Rachel had trusted her biological clock to wake her up when needed, because if she had taken the precaution to set her alarm then that meant that really soon that fucking thing was gonna start beeping and the most awkward morning after ever was going to dawn on him. Of course, alarm or not she _was_ waking up (the alternative was that she'd died in her sleep and if that happened... it would suck), but he'd rather she did nice and easy, getting used to the idea that she wasn't alone in her bed.

Now that he'd had a couple hours sleep Puck admitted that crawling into bed with Rachel (without permission) was not one of his brightest moments. Sure, waking up next to her had TOTALLY rocked his world, but who knows what kind of crazy tantrum she was going to throw when she woke up? He'd rather stay in her good graces a little longer, thankyouverymuch.

Puck was also positive that it was the best nap he'd ever taken, and he was a guy who liked his naps. His motto was anytime, anywhere (a similar one one was applied to sexing, but it had been dramatically put out of use since, well, since his dreams became tormented by the petite brunette sleeping peacefully next to him).

So yeah, he was enjoying the fact that he was lying next to her in the most non-sexual position he'd ever been on a bed with a girl he wasn't related to. But that didn't mean that once Rachel woke up he wasn't gonna have a lot of explaining to do. At least he had some time to figure out what he was gonna say and --

_Ain't nothing gonna break my stride, nobody gonna slow me down, oh no, I got to keep on moving._

Shit.

* * *

Rachel was well aware that she was currently sharing accommodations with Noah. About an hour into her nap she'd woken up as her bladder was being adamant on reminding her of it's existence, to find out that her nap was now _their _nap. Momentarily, she'd freaked, but Rachel figured that waking him up and demand an explanation would only prevent them from resting and charging up the batteries they'd worn out during the midnight trip to the hospital and the previous horror genre marathon. Really, she was only being pragmatic when she went back to her bed after going to the bathroom and crawling back next to him.

(She did resist the urge to snuggle closer. While she longed to feel his lovely arms around her waist holding her tight against his chest, Rachel felt it would be better if they talked about their situation before spooning.)

Before she drifted off, however, she felt the pang in her gut that told her she'd better be enjoying this moment now because when her alarm went off and Noah fully regain his senses, spooning, or anything remotely as intimate, was not going to be happening. She shouldn't cry or feel bad about it, really. The last couple of weeks had been exciting and fun and just good so Rachel should find solace in the fact that she'd been allotted with such time. It was all going to change now, most likely for the worst, and every moment she could pretend Noah chose to be laying next to her (and Quinn chose to be her friend) was a moment stole from the inevitable crash and burn nearing the horizon.

Fighting back the cringe behind her tightly shut lids, Rachel dared to snuggle just a little bit closer to his warm body. She wanted to pretend a little more.

So it was with a growl that she received Wilder Mathews's iconic tune. Rachel wasn't sure but she thought she heard Noah mutter a curse under his breath, which had that now distinctively familiar pang return with renewed force. She also became well aware of their noses touching and their feet tangled. No other part of their bodies were in contact, but they were surely close enough to feel each other breathing, caccooned on her Nana's blanket and sharing warmth.

In a distinct corner of her mind Rachel smacked herself for returning to bed after her bathroom break. What had she been thinking? Noah was gonna bolt out any minute now and she'd be left alone and very likely crying for the relationship they never had and, she knew now, never would be having.

_Then why did he came here to sleep with me?_

It made no sense, but Rachel had been told enough times that her mind did not function the way normal people's do so probably this was the perfectly normal way for a guy to hang out before he got the chance to tell her that that thing she thought they were going to have, wasn't going to happen now simply because there was no logical reason to actually do it.

(Relishing on the memories and pretending it wasn't going to end before it began did not help at all.)

So she opened her eyes and was instantly pierced by Noah's green gaze. Rachel knew they were physically close, but not _this _close. It was like they were a breath away from each other.

(She wondered how could you be so close to something -someone- you wanted so badly and still be far far away.)

He was clearly waiting for her to make the first move. Did he think her wounded pride would feel better if she was the one to state the obvious first instead of him, so at least it would look like it was her idea to call their thing off? Would it help? Pretending she wanted that to happen and that her dignity hadn't flown out the window when she'd snuggled next to him and pretend she wasn't fighting back tears right now as he waited, stony faced, for her to make the first move.

So she did (but Rachel wasn't nearly as brave as she thought she was).

"Hello, Noah, what a wonderful surprise!" she smiled cheerily and shot up from the bed. "I hope you had a pleasant nap. It's scientifically proved that eight hours of sleep are required every night to be in one's prime and while last night we were sufficiently excused for overseeing that fact, I'm glad we both got to re-power our batteries, so to speak," she chuckled as she went through the room followed by Puck's dumbstruck gaze. "It's past noon and we ought to take Quinn's personal affects as we promised earlier, so why don't you start on her room while I check the laundry and fix us something to eat. I realise it's quite late for breakfast, but brunch sound like a good idea, don't you think?"

She obviously didn't care what he thought about that because she bolted out of the room before he even had a chance to answer, and while he hadn't zoned off during her little monologue Puck still had no idea what she was talking about.

He figured it wasn't really un-Berry-like. After all, he'd expected her to freak out. He only wished he'd gotten to actually say something to her about the kiss and all before she started yapping, but he'd been stopped and confused out of his freaking mind hole by the sadness pooling in her eyes. Next thing he knew she was beaming like everything was Okay and blahing about brunch and the eight hour sleep required and, worst of all, she wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were fixed somewhere between his hairline and his brow and everything Puck tried to make eye contact she'd avoid it like he was that mythological freak who could turn you into stone if you looked at it in the eye.

But that was all good because he had plenty of time to talk to her and he'd rather she'd un-freaked out when he did.

With a sigh he put his shoes back on and trailed to Quinn's bedroom to get her stuff as quickly as possible.

* * *

"Explain to me _again_ what the hell it is you're saying."

Kurt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The icy goo covered jock before him had to joking. "If there is one clique of McKinley High's hierarchy that knows what it's like to feel the cold, icky humiliation of a slushie facial, it's us," he repeated somewhat heated. "We," he gestured to himself, Artie, Tina and Mercedes "want to help you," he gestured to Tom, Jake and Luke sitting side by side by side in a bench at the boys locker room "get even."

"Why?"Jake furrowed as he toweled the slushie off his face.

"Because Finn, Matt and Mike are our friends," Mercedes rolled her eyes. "And they need to learn it's not Okay to slushie people."

"Why don't you just tell them that?" Luke interjected.

"Because that wouldn't be nearly as entertaining as watching the six of you brawling," Kurt shrugged glamorously.

"Six of us?" Tom snorted. "I seem to remember at least twenty jocks cornering us in the cafeteria."

"Yes, but the master mind behind it, as unbelievable as it sounds, was Finn, and Finn surely brainstormed with Matt and Mike," Kurt provided haughtily. "You have to get to the root of the problem."

Jake narrowed his eyes. "What's in it for you?"

"Yeah, we have reasons to want to teach them a lesson," Tom bowed his head to the side and studied the four people in front of him carefully. "Why do you?"

"It's not like the glocks slushied you," Luke added.

Artie chuckled softly as Kurt, Mercedes and Tina shared a look. "Glocks?" Tina frowned confused.

"Glee-jocks," Tom, Jake, Luke and Artie said in unison.

(The had come up with the term one afternoon at Puck's after he vehemently stated that the gleek label did not applied to him because while he was in Glee club he was still a BAMF.)

"Damn!" Kurt whispered through his pout. "Why didn't I come up with that?"

"Listen, we appreciate the support," Tom stood up. As captain of the wrestling team it was his job to keep in mind the team's best interests. "But we're not official yet. Figgins can shut us down tomorrow if he wants and we're competing for the first time next week. We're not gonna screw it up by messing with those Neanderthals."

The other two nodded.

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "You do know what the slushie attack was all about, don't you?"

"Finn's been asking for Puck, Quinn and Rachel all day," Mercedes said. "And he knows than you know what's going on because my boy Kurt here told him."

Three sets of eyes glared at him. "Thanks, dude," Tom snorted.

"I am not a dude!"

"You like snitch better?"

Before Kurt could bitch-slap Tom, Artie wheeled and parked between them. "Everyone is too upset right now," he pointed out the obvious. "So why don't we just go and let them clean off," he suggested to his fellow gleeks.

"Let's go," Mercedes linked arms with Tina and headed to the double doors. "We have to go get ballistic on Matt and Mike."

After nodding to the guys, Artie wheeled in their wake. Kurt stopped by the door.

"Just so you know," he said with his chin up. "We're on Team Puck at the moment. We're as happy Finn is out-douching himself with his haha moment as I re-joy in the fact that Rachel Berry can belt out a ballad that would put Barbra to shame."

With nothing further, he exited the locker room.

"That means they're _not _happy right?" Luke asked after a moment.

"I think it does," Jake nodded.

"Who's Barbra?" Tom frowned.

* * *

As far as confessions went, Puck admitted that pining Rachel Berry to her front door with his hand covering her mouth muffling the outraged sounds she was making as he tried to unlock the door with the key he'd snatched from her hand bare seconds before was a crazy move on his part. But it's not like it was his first choice or anything.

Before they'd left to Quinn's she busied herself talking nonstop and shoveling food on his mouth so he wouldn't have time to say a thing while she packed the rest of Quinn's stuff like she had just downed a whole tablet of vitamin D. She rushed from one place to the other babbling thing he didn't understand and urging him on so they could hoop in his truck and drive to Quinn's. Puck, of course, only played along because once they were in his truck she would be at his mercy and he'd get his way and say his peace.

That didn't happen though. Rachel flickered through the radio and found an 'interesting' trivia comment to say about each song as she made random remarks about the neighborhood and cars and pedestrians and animals. He was not exaggerating when he said she did not take a breath once to compose herself from her crazy rant, and seriously if anybody ever doubted her lung capacity he could bare witness to the fact that it was fucking limitless.

(He was kind of bewildered though. Puck was sure she was talking because she was nervous and wanted to deflect from the actual conversation they should be having, and that kind of sucked, but it was still pretty amazing that she could come up with so many words and topics to sidetrack from the real issue.)

In true psychic fashion, Puck guessed correctly that he wouldn't get to talk to her either while at Quinn's. When she wasn't busy helping Quinn set up her bedroom straight and talking about nothing (Quinn's WTF face was priceless) she was deep in conversation with Mrs. Fabray telling everything she needed to know of the months her daughter hadn't been at home (as if Quinn hadn't already given her detailed recap, which probably she hadn't), remarking on a diet she'd downloaded in her blackberry that was suggested by an award winning OB-GYN that might be beneficial for Quinn, school credit scores and her garden.

Quinn was just as baffled as Puck was. Watching Rachel around her mom was like watching a bunny eating a steak: freaky.

By the time they were back on his truck Rachel looked positively sick. He noticed she'd run out of conversation topics (finally!) because now her sentences were shorter and pointless and she fidgeted more obviously on her seat. Puck patiently waited until she realized the time for their talked had come because as much as he wanted to duck-tape her mouth and tie her down so that she would just shut up and hear him out, he'd much rather they had normal conversation.

Again, that didn't happen.

Before his truck even stopped moving in front of her house, Rachel tore open the passenger door and jumped off to the sidewalk, momentarily losing her balance. But if there was one thing years and years of dancing had taught her was to keep a firm step, so she steadied herself in no time and run to the front door.

Now Puck was fast and he was pissed. He didn't tackle her to the ground because she was tiny and a girl and all, but he sure was mad enough to do something equally as reckless. Like for instance, linking his arms under her armpits and lifting her from the ground (thank you Coach Ritchie), swiftly turning her around so she was facing him and pining her to the door, snatching the key from her hand and blocking her airways with his other hand.

He could practically hear all the PG13 insults she was going through in her head (which was sick and sweet on the same time if _really _think about it) as he tossed her over his shoulder and broke in her home. His hand wasn't keeping her from talking and berating at him giving their new position but she kept quiet nonetheless. Good. It was his time to talk.

"What the fuck is your problem?! I knew you were crazy but you like reached a whole new level!" he shouted angrily as he deposited unceremoniously on the living room.

Rachel huffed and crossed her arms giving him an interesting look up her cleavage. "I don't know _what _you're talking about. You are being absolutely barbaric and I demand and apology."

"Well, you ain't getting one," he scoffed.

"Fine!" her brown eyes flared with anger and she pushed him to the door.

(More like bounced on him as she _tried _to push him. She was tiny and Puck was stocked.)

But behind the anger and the indignation, Puck sad that same sadness pooling he'd seen when she'd woken up that morning and just like then, she looked like she was going to cry.

(His heart did break a little.)

"Go away!" she urged him struggling to keep her voice even-toned. "That's what everybody does around me, so why would you be any different?!"

"What are you talking about?" he asked quietly, his initial fury blatantly placated.

Rachel's upper lip quivered and she stormed out of the room, into the kitchen.

"Don't avoid me, Rachel, I'm not leaving!"

"Yes, you are!" she turned around abruptly, her voice finally cracking. "My dads always leave me, Finn never wanted to stay in the first place, Quinn left too and you'll follow after her and I'm going to be all alone again!"

She refused to sob in front of people. It showed insecurity and weakened one's position. But she was crying and she could not make it stop.

Rachel hugged herself (had it really been that long?) and turned her back on him, waiting patiently for him to get the hint and make his quick getaway. She was giving him an out and she would not secretly resent him when he left, just like she didn't secretly resent Quinn and her dads. She just wanted to be left alone so she could play some sad music and cry like the old days.

But the next moment she knew, Noah was hugging her too and was whispering words in her ear that she couldn't hear because she was too busy crying her heart out and trying not to choke on her own tears.

Rachel doesn't know how long they stand like that in her kitchen, her back firmly pressed against his chest, slowly rocking back and forth. At some point she registers being carried in full bridal fashion up to her room and being gently deposited on her bed, under the covers, next to Noah.

She does know, however, that he sings Sweet Caroline to her until she falls asleep.

* * *

Rachel woke up to find her bed empty, and while it was supposed to be that way seeing as she was a single sixteen year old, she couldn't help to feel it was sadly lonely.

Remembering her freak out earlier that afternoon, she couldn't blame Noah for leaving. If she ever had a chance with him she'd splendidly made sure it flew freely out the window. Who would want to be with a crazy person like her?

Sighing lamely she turned to her side resolute on spending the rest of the night wallowing in self pity, but found a neatly folded note on the pillow.

She'd never seen Noah's handwriting before, and if she had then she'd never paid so much attention. It suited him, she thought, it wasn't neat at all and his phrasing could use some work, but it was perfectly legible and held no room for second interpretations.

**Gotta go. Tanaka was busting my balls over the basketball game tonight. I'll come back before work.**

**I'm not leaving you. N. **

Rachel smiled as joy tears travelled down her cheeks. She only had a moment to enjoy the feelings that note evoked on her though as her phone started buzzing on the nightstand with Quinn's ring-tone.

"Hey," the blonde preggo greeted cheerily from the other end of the line. "Missed me?"

"Sure," Rachel grinned, feeling that slight pang in her gut. "How are things?"

"Okay," she practically see Quinn shrugging. "The weirdest thing happened though. I was in the shower and -are you ready for this?- my belly button popped out!"

"It did? How does it look?"

"I'm sending you a picture right now."

Sure enough, Rachel got a picture of Quinn's belly with the perky little belly button poking out.

"It's so cute!"

"I know!" Quinn laughed. "So, do yo wanna do something tonight? We could go to the game. The other team really sucks and we actually have a shot at winning."

Rachel smiled and shut her eyes content, the pang disappearing completely. Quinn wasn't leaving either.

"Sounds great," she agreed. "What should I wear?"

* * *

**Sooo? I know Puck never really gets to say that thing he itched to say (am I evil or what?) but I just wanted to give Rachel the chance to rant and get a little angsty because I strongly believe we are not getting enough of it in the show and I just have the feeling she'd go totally emo with all the crap people keep throwing at her.**

**but anyway, I hope you liked it! and please review!**


	11. Two halves

**Hello! Thanks a bunch for all your reviews! I loved all of them.**

**I don't own Glee, 'When the levee breaks' and 'Lay lady lay'.**

Chapter eleven: Two halves

"Heard you, Quinn and Rachel skipped school today."

In reality speaking, Puck was kind of glad Finn had just spoke to him. All those years of friendship were bound to make him feel crappy for, on one hand, betraying his best friend and, on the other hand, for missing him so fucking much he was sure he'd grown lady parts. So yeah, even if Finn sounded mildly pissed and even if they were in the locker room, surrounded by half naked guys all avidly eavesdropping on the 'conversation', Puck was _kind of _glad Finn was talking to him. But no so much.

"I heard my friends got epically slushied," Puck gritted out piercing into Finn's honey clear eyes.

"Hazing," he shrugged.

"Well, I'd watch out for Gertie," he warned him as he brushed past him. "She's out for your sweet, virgin blood."

Matt and Mike came to stop in front of him effectively blocking his way, sternly staring at him. Puck had to suppress the chuckles their matching looks elicited: he was the master of the badass way, chicks regularly fell on his feet and guys got their dicks shrunk with cold, inevitable fear. Who did they think they were trying to intimidate?

(Fact: he was in a locker room full with guys who hated his guts. Puck was a badass, not a dumbass, he knew how to pick his battles.)

"Just wanted to know if Driz-- the baby is Okay."

Finn sounded embarrassed. Maybe it had something to do with how unrequired those residual (read: still strongly there) fatherly feelings were given their situation (also referred to as their totally fucked up mess).

But it was actually Puck the one embarrassed the most right now. Because while he'd been trying desperately to shove it to the farthest corner of his mind, there was still this aspect of his 'situation' with Finn that was kind of the meanest part (even more so than screwing his girl).

a) Both Finn and Puck grew up without a dad.

b) Both Finn and Puck had fatherly feeling towards one individual, currently within Quinn's womb.

c) Both Finn and Puck had no idea what to do.

So yeah, Puck didn't need to be the sharpest screwdriver in the toolbox to figure out Finn was going through something very similar to what he'd experienced all those months he had to watch him and Quinn play house with his kid. At least back then Finn would come to him all excited after the ultrasounds and show him the pictures and the DVDs and tell him when his daughter started noticeably moving inside of Quinn's belly and how he felt her every time he touched her. Finn, on the other hand, hadn't had a single update on the baby development ever since shit hit the pan.

Puck turned around and briefly met his best friend's gaze. If there was a moment in the past months that they've been truly close (including the deadly brownie incident) and that they just knew what was going on inside the other's head and that it felt like they were eight again and they were riding their bikes as fast as they could trying to get away from Mr. Collins after setting on fire a bag of dog shit on his doorstep, then that was it.

"Nothing really happened," he confessed lowly well aware his voice echoed in the silent locker room. "Quinn had an indigestion and she wasn't feeling well so we went to the hospital. She's fine; they're fine."

Finn visibly let out a relieved breath as a smile tugged on the corner of his lips. Before he could say anything, however, Coach Tanaka burged into the locker room.

"Okay ladies, time to get your asses on that court."

* * *

"'Sup losers?"

Rachel and Quinn would've been offended by the comment if they hadn't recognized the voice as that of one Rebbecca Puckerman. While the interaction both girls had had with her in the past was somewhat remote, it only took a few minutes for even the dimmest of minds to realize Rebbecca was every bit her brother's sister, badassness included.

(Rachel had made the mistake of questioning that this one time after Temple when she remarked how she'd practically never seen Rebbecca wear pink while it was statistically the color mostly favoured by girls her age. Rebbecca had snorted loudly and informed her not so kindly that if she ever found herself wearing that wussy color she would gladly jump in front of a bus.)

"Hello Rebbecca," Rachel greeted uneasily. She was constantly on tenterhooks around the girl, whether it was because she wanted her to accept her as Noah's inevitable love mate or because Rachel had the feeling Rebbecca could go, for lack of a better term, apeshit on anyone anytime given the faintest encourage she didn't know and she wasn't about to delve on it any further. "How lovely to see you tonight. We weren't aware you and your mother were coming."

"Mom's still at work," she shrugged her small jersey clad frame and followed them to the makeshift cheerio's run snack bar beside the gym doors.

"You came on your own?" Quinn asked standing on her toes to check out the food they were selling. She was starving, but the doctor had been very specific on how much she needed to change her eating habits.

"I always come to Noah's games. That way on Sunday brunch with grandpa I can add side notes to my brother's recap on how much his team sucked that week," she informed them lazily.

"Well, word has it the other team isn't really good either so there's a chance McKinley wins tonight," Rachel said carefully.

"Winning because the other teams sucks worse than you isn't really fulfilling," Rebbecca rolled her eyes immensely annoyed, crossing her arms over her jersey. "They'd be lamer if they actually lost, yeah, but beating them ain't that flattering either."

"Stop trying to get her to like you," Quinn whispered in her friend's ear. "You're starting to sound desperate."

"Hey Preggo, RuPaul," one of the junior Cheerios tending the snack bar smiled sweetly as the three girls reached the table. The spiteful look was not masked by that smile, not that the Cheerio was trying all that hard.

The Cheerios were nice to Quinn only within the terms of her co-chairing their routines and while Santana and Brittany were around. Given as that wasn't happening right now, they were in fact unleashing their bitchiness. Rachel, after oh-so-many years had developed a tolerance, but she knew Quinn was still struggling with the pain it caused having the people who used to like you treat you like trash. Her friend would either get extremely angry, like five times bitchy and have the junior Cheerio crying for mercy or would just bow her head down in defeat and carry along as if nothing had happened. It depended on her current emotional state.

Before Quinn could swing either way, the Puckerman short temper kicked in. "Shut your trap, Cheerio, and get us some pretzels," Rebbecca growled hotly. "And if you do something gross to our food I'll know it," she warned her pointing her with her finger. "I will personally kick your ass off the top of the pyramid and make it look like an accident."

"Whatev," the insipid Cheerio rolled her eyes. "Like I'm scared of you."

"Well, newsflash carrot head I ain't wearing Puckerman's number cuz I got a girly crush on him," Rebbecca sneered as she menacingly lent over the table. "He's my _brother_."

The insipid Cheerio gasped audibly and looked at Quinn and Rachel for confirmation. "True," Rachel sing sang smiling.

"Lily! Where _are _those pretzels?!" the Cheerio called hysterically.

"I hate clinging to his rep," Rebbecca said lowly a few minutes later as they made their way to their seats, acting as if she just hadn't owned up to something cataloged as girly as feelings. "It's not the badassly way to go about things."

"But there's still a few more years before you rule this place with your iron fist," Rachel pointed out completely serious. "Until then you should enjoy the massive fear your brother induces on his peers."

Rebbecca touched her chin with her index and seemed to consider that. "Good point. I never looked at it that way before."

"There are the guys," Quinn announced with her gaze set on the fifth row from the bottom to the middle.

Rachel had never been to a basketball game before. Sure, she knew what the game was about, her Daddy Leroy had played collage basketball and while neither her Dad or Rachel herself weren't the tiniest bit sportsy they would every other week gather around the living room and watch a game instead of a movie. She was confident she understood the basics (the basketball was to enter the loop at all costs) but even to this day she was still somewhat amiss to the other principles of basketball playing.

Nevertheless, she'd never felt the drive to attend to one of her high school's games and tempt fate (the jocks were bound to find her and slushie her withing the confines of the school during school time, there was no need to go straight to the lion's den during their testosterone fest) which is why Rachel was so surprised to find such elevated school spirit. Most people were wearing McKinley colors and they cheered loudly even though players were yet to set foot on the gymnasium and a good bunch of them were holding 'go McKinley' signs. She briefly wondered how much higher the school spirit would escalate if their team was actually good.

Which they weren't. At all. It was like they were individually good and maybe they'd do great if the game was all about standing alone in front of the loop and shooting the basketball into it, but passing it to another team mate? Without it slipping off his hands? Not really happening right now. The other team was no good either, but Rachel wouldn't go as fas as to say they were worse than her McKinley boys. They both sucked evenly.

So instead of getting worked up over the game per se, Rachel decided to focus her attention on how good Noah looked (an incredibly easy task since he was an admittedly hot Jew). She barely register Quinn laughing with Jake, Rebbecca cursing up and down her ABCs with Tom and Luke following suit, or the score even. All Rachel wanted to do was daydreaming of the mohawked boy down in the court and how warm and happy she' felt when she read his note when she woke up a coupe of hours ago.

He liked her. He really really did. And what is more, he wasn't afraid or morally against it. She'd never had that before; granted she hadn't liked all that many boys but the ones she did had never reciprocated her feelings just as intensely (exhibit A: Finn Hudson). During that week they'd dated Noah had treated her better than anyone she could remember, and that was only to get into her pants (_yes_, she knew). Rachel shivered with excitement wondering the lengths he would go now that their relationship was deeper and more meaningful.

(She had a few ideas of her own to show him how much she appreciated him and how happy she was to have him, even if he was still not technically hers, but she knew sometime soon they'd be having a talk and neither of them would be walking single hot Jews after it.)

(She also found it endearing that she'd started referring to them as a couple of good looking Jews. It was like their own pet name, even if it did go both ways.)

McKinley actually won, but there was this incident at the end of the game that decidedly overshadowed their victory.

Seeing as she was too busy admiring Noah and recalling the warmth of his lovely arms around her, Rachel only noticed Gertie had left her seat next to Luke when she was on the court, halfway down toward the mass of celebrating jocks. With a frown (because seriously, what _was she doing_ down there?) Rachel turned to the guys intending to ask what was wrong, but was met instead with amused smirks (Tom and the others had spent too much time with Noah), Quinn's anticipated cringe and one wide-eyed Rebbecca. Then the crowd erupted in unison with the most pained gasp Rachel had ever heard.

Down in the court, Gertie had her hand tightly clasped around Finn's groin area and she was whispering something in his ear. Finn's face was expectedly white and he was trying to squirm out her, which really only caused Gertie to hold on tighter. He nodded frantically until Gertie was satisfied. Only then she let him go (Finn fell down to his knees looking extremely pained) and smoothly walked out of the gym not caring that from this day forward she'd be known as the nads Nazi.

* * *

"You got out rather quick," Rachel mentioned casually sitting over the hood of Puck's truck swinging her jean clad legs up and down.

"I openly laughed at Finn with Gertie's payback," he smirked as he dropped his duffel bag on the floor and lent next to Rachel. "Figured I shouldn't dally on the locker room too long."

She smiled and slid closer to him. Tom, Jake and Luke had said something about a phone call and taken off the minute the game ended and Quinn and Rebbecca were in the bathroom with Gertie. She and Noah were all alone in the darkest and farthest part of the parking lot. Perfect.

"Where's my sister?" Puck asked looking around, almost expecting her to pop out of under the truck and attack him. It wouldn't be a first. "I saw she was with you guys."

"Quinn and Gertie accompanied her to the restroom. To keep her safe, of course."

He smirked. "Rebbecca is a badass. If anyone needs to be kept safe is the people around her," he said fondly. "She's my little psychopath."

"While I think it's endearing how how highly you think of your sister's abilities self-preservation, there are miscreants around every corner just waiting to attack and they are better scared off by to somewhat adult females than a little girl with an attitude," Rachel reprimanded him and poked him on the chest. "That's why I carry pepper spray with me all the time. My size and altogether demeanor is hardly intimidating."

Puck was feeling all tingly around the area in his chest where she had poked him. Not because it hurt or anything (the nickname Man Hands was way off the mark) but really because she hadn't removed her finger and was now tracing small round patterns with it. He reached out for her hand and covered with his, keeping it flat against his hard muscles and close enough to his heart so Rachel could feel the beating.

She'd totally had a meltdown on him earlier that day and Puck had experienced what could only be described as getting his heart fucking broken merely by the sight of her so vulnerable and insecure and _crying_. He had spent a lot of time and effort during junior high and last year trying to break her. He had bullied her, slushied her on a weekly basis, started nasty rumors about her and JewFro, basically douchied her around and she still always, _every damn time_, walked away from him with her head held up high and confident that she was better than all of them (than him) and that the hell Puck was putting her through was nothing more than a character building experience that would no doubt make her biography a best-seller editorial and a multiple award winning movie.

He'd also seen her get her heart toyed with by Finn countless of times, and the only tell away sign of upsetness or whatever was her daily MySpace video (she'd perform a sad love song, like On My Own, or Take a Bow, or All By Myself) or the longing stares she set upon Finn until she decided to give him another chance. Kurt and Mercedes were always pointing out her flaws, Mr. Shuester made her work twice as hard for the solos than the rest of the girls and gave her half-felt compliments and she was so often ridiculed Puck honestly didn't understand how it was that she hadn't killed them all by now. He'd seen her get angry and storming out of numerous places when she didn't get what she wanted or felt she was treated unfairly, endure all the crap that was constantly getting thrown up her way, but crying? Rachel Berry was on top of that shit. She did not cry. Hell, until earlier that day, Puck been sure she'd had her tear ducts removed just like Silvester.

But she wasn't made of stone. And watching her crumble was the second worst thing he'd ever witnessed (his dead-beat dad slapping his ma ranked number one and he was pretty sure it would remain that way forever).

Puck had done everything he could to assure her he wasn't going to let her down and if Tanaka's texts hadn't been so douchy (by the way, how the hell did he get his number? Wasn't there some sort f rule against that?) he would've just stayed with Rachel until she woke up. Instead he'd left a note. 22 fucking words (yes, he counted). He'd never thought he'd see the day when he would wish he could like put his finger on his feelings and flourishly elaborate about them like some fruity Gray's Anatomy character, but it happened.

However, his note seemed to have been a success because unless he was delusional, Rachel was there sitting over his hood with her warm hand flat against his chest and being stroked by Puck's hand, staring up at him like he was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

And Puck didn't even felt the need to make some comment about how she could just take picture because it'd last longer and hide the fuzziness inside him. He was damn proud of the butterflies in his stomach. "About the kiss last night and the cuddling this morning--"

Rachel gently pressed two fingers of her free hand over his lips and effectively shut him up, a flirty gleam in her eyes and slightly biting her lip.

(Puck wished she wouldn't do that. It was really hard to keep the blood from going south when she was bitting her lip.)

"I have the feeling this isn't a ten minute conversation," she said softly, her thumb slowly traveling over his chiseled jawline. Puck shivered unmistakeably and she smirked a smirk that could very well match one of his own.

(There was _no way _Rachel didn't know what she was doing to him.)

"This isn't the time," she determined.

Puck nodded visibly disappointed. She was probably right though. Quinn and Rebbecca were coming soon from the bathroom and they'd be interrupted anyway and that'd be awkward. When he talked to Rachel, Puck wanted to make sure they had plenty of time to cover all aspects of the situation and have a steamy make out session afterwards.

The hand on his chest mover upward and trailed up to his neck, his muscles tensing under her touch as she freed his lips and cupped his cheek. "We have seven minutes before the girls return," Rachel mentioned leaning closer to him. "Wanna make out?"

Sweet David.

_Yes._

_He._

_Did._

Turns out? Quinn Fabray has the worst timing ever. She showed up with Rebbecca and Gertie in her wake tree whole minutes before what Rachel had calculated abso-fucking-lutely cutting short their super hot make out session. Puck only forgave her because she was having his baby and had decided Rachel shouldn't spend the night alone in her house when she could stay over at Quinn's (he really didn't want Rachel to have another meltdown, specially if he wasn't around to make her feel better). Also, she invited Gertie even though he was pretty sure this was the first time both her and Rachel had properly met her (he suspected that seeing Finn suffer greatly at Gertie's hand -pun fully intended- had put her on her top ten favourite person list) and Rebbecca and announced it a girl's night. Rebbecca shrugged and acted like she was only going because she wanted Gertie to teach her some badass wrestling moves and insisted that she'd leave the minute they tried to force something as girly as a chick flick onto her, but Puck knew his sister well enough to detect the tone of excitement in her voice. Rebbecca was a badass like him and naturally abrasive: she didn't have girl friends her age and was missing out a lot of the girly stuff girls do as she hung out only with boys (a fact that was surely going to cause Puck a lot of trouble when she grew up a few more years and turn into the inevitable beauty she was meant to be as he was bound to bust skulls around her).

They parted ways as they peeled off the parking lot. Quinn and Rachel headed to her house to get some clothes, Gertie left to her own house with the same intention and promising to meet them at Quinn's in half an hour. Puck drove away glancing at Rachel's car as it took left on the intersection with Rebbecca sitting next to him yapping about the game. Just because he was happy and in a good mood, he wet his finger and stuck it in her ear when she least expected it. Rebbecca screeched and tackled him to his door in the next red light.

Wet Willys rock.

* * *

Tom was pretty sure what they were doing right now could be catalogued as kidnap. He only hoped the authorities never found out or that, if so, the Ohio State laws were merciful.

It started with brainstorming at Luke's after school. While they had turned out the Gleeks offer to help them get their revenge, the wound of humiliation was too deep to turn their looks away and pretend it hadn't happened.

Because it had, and in front of the entire school. They had done nothing to deserve the slushie attack, hell, none of them had ever slushied someone before given as while not entirely outcasts, they weren't exactly popular either and never felt the need to downsize other students.

In Gertie's book, bullying was a dark sin and it should be purged by equally dark physical damage. So when she announced she was turning Finn Hudson into a eunuch, Tom, Jake and Luke let her have her revenge the way she wanted. After all she was girl and Hudson or his friends were not likely to hit her back and she'd sure as hell slap the joy of slushing out of their lame asses.

But they didn't think that kind of retaliantion was the best course of action on their particular case. So, they brainstormed till they came along with the perfect payback.

After the game they called Artie and asked him to text Hudson, Chang and Rutherford telling them to meet him at the 7eleven. It wasn't that much of a smart excuse, but let's face it, Puck's older friends's IQ was only rivaled by garden tools so Tom was positive they'd be safe to say they were meeting them.

Which they did, right on time and without a clue or suspision as to why on earth would Artie want to meet them in the middle of the night. They didn't think anything was odd then nor they did when Kurt, Tina and Mercedes popped out of nowhere and told them they had a surprise for them and needed them to remain calm while he blindfolded them and Tina and Mercedes tied their hands on their back.

(They weren't Tom's first choice of sidekicks, but Artie said they were cool and wanted to help. Luke had voiced his disappointment that the Glee Cheerios weren't a part of Operation: Let's stick it up to Hudson.)

With the gleeks handiwork done, Hudson and the other two were led to Tom's SUV and squished in the back as the laughed and said inappropriate jokes like how they'd throw Kurt into a dumpster if he tried to molest them. Kurt didn't find it funny and Tom was pretty sure he hit Finn head on purpose when he shoved him over the back seat.

"They're all yours now," Kurt said regally to Tom. "Just keep in mind we're competing in less than three weeks. We need their voices and Finn's handsomeness."

"No problem dude," Tom shrugged and jumped to the driver's seat. He totally heard Kurt whisper angrily 'I am not a dude!'.

Jake turned on his iPod and the music of Wicked floated withing the SUV. Just like Kurt had told them, Hudson, Chang and Rutherford started singing along, blissfully unaware of their hostage situation.

* * *

Rachel fidgeted anxiously by her living room window, checking the time on her watch every two seconds and jumping every time she saw a car appear around the corner, only to sigh dejectedly as it never was the beat up truck she was expecting.

**What r u doin 2nite?**

That's how she'd started her day. With one text message from Puck wondering about her plans.

The sleepover had been an utter success. They had had a Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki marathon, ate some healthy but significantly tasty food, did their nails (they convinced Rebbecca promising black toenails were totally badass), joke around and have a pillow fight. Rachel was grateful to learn that not all sleepovers revolve around being terrified over horror movies.

There was also feelings talk, once Rebbecca fell unconscious on the couch. Gertie told them about some troubles she'd had in her other school concerning several bothersome Seniors and how she suspected her dad was cheating on her mom; Quinn spoke of her insecurities of being back home, how her mother had apologized in tears and assured her she would be there for her from now on and that if her dad couldn't be reasoned with, then it was over between them, but that nothing would ever come between her and her daughter anymore. And Rachel? Rachel took a faith leap and owned up to her meltdown and altogether fear of abandonment.

She didn't mean to cry. As stated before, she didn't like crying in front of other people. After so many years of convincing herself that no one cared how she felt and all the acting coaching, Rachel had mastered the art of crying in demand. But she couldn't help it as the tears trailed down her cheeks.

Surprisingly, Gertie was a hell of a hugger. She was really warm and cozy and though it should have been a little awkward, it wasn't. She made Rachel feel like it was Okay to be held and comforted. Quinn had brushed her tears determined and called her silly for keeping all that stuff bottled. It wasn't healthy and last thing Quinn needed were unhealthy friends. She held her hand though and told her she needed to talk to her dads about it.

In a lighter mood, they discussed boys. Gertie mercilessly teased Quinn about Jake, with Rachel joining, to the blonde's blushing mortification.

"I'm pregnant," she reminded them gesturing to her circumferenced belly. "And even if I'm off the Cheerios, that's who I am," she frowned. "Everyone at school will always see me as the McKinley High Head Bitch."

"Jake's smarter than that," Gertie assured her.

"Exactly," Quinn nodded forcefully. "He's Chess Club and Mathletes smart."

"Your grades are fantastic," Rachel argued.

"I also helped Brittany and Santana deface the entire Thunderclad."

It was useless, Quinn would not hear reason. But she would also look away dreamily and had this little smile tugging on the corners of her lips that told Rachel not all hope was lost. It wasn't the time right now (Quinn was pregnant and expected to deliver in around seven weeks) but when it was, Rachel would be totally ready to help her. Color coded game plan and all.

Then it was time for Gertie to fess up. Turns out there was a guy in her Biology class she liked and was nice to her, but she feared she'd fall in the friend category as she was always punching him. When Rachel and Quinn asked her why on earth would she punch him on a regular basis if wanted to date him, she just said that's how she demonstrated her affection for boys and that she was working on it with her therapist. Quinn dragged both girls to the bathroom and taught Gertie the arm of eye lash batting.

Rachel was eager to talk about the developments on her non-relationship with Noah (Quinn scoffed at the non-relationship reference. In her book, sucking face in the parking lot pretty much established some sort of involvement) and was so happy about it she woke up Rebbecca with her chipper chat.

"What are guys talking about?" she asked sleepily from the couch.

"Your brother," Quinn sing sang.

"Eww," Rebbecca made a face and angled her head over the pillow so she was staring directly at Rachel. "He likes you," she informed her nonchalantly. "So if you dump him again we're gonna have a problem. One of us is gonna end up seriously dead," Rachel blinked. "And it ain't gonna be me."

With Rachel dutifully warned, Rebbecca turned around and fell asleep immediately.

Morning came and Sarah Puckerman came to pick up her daughter on her way to work. Rachel was slightly disappointed it was her instead of Noah, but she knew he got out of work really late on Friday night and was probably still sleeping. Around noon came his text and Rachel actually giggled and did a little victory dance.

(She'd been helping Mrs. Fabray with the dishwasher at the moment.)

(She ignored the older woman's amused stare.)

Saying she was excited would be the king of understatements. She tried to get him to tell her what they were doing that night, but the only information he was willing to let go was that they were going out of Lima. As endearing she found his resolution to surprise her, Rachel couldn't help to find a significant flaw in his plan that could no doubt ruin their evening.

If she didn't know where they were going, then how would she know what was appropriate to wear?

She took her concerns to Quinn and she was outraged that Puck would be so limited not to think of that particular aspect and how much it mattered to girls. Just as any moment was an opportunity for fashion, it was also an opportunity for embarrassment. And last thing Rachel needed was feeling embarrassed or worried when she should be focusing on enjoying their time together.

(Plus it was a special night and Rachel wanted to look hot.)

So, Quinn called Puck and demanded he informed her where he was taking Rachel so that she could help her get ready, promising she would keep her mouth shut. When Quinn returned to Rachel after talking to him, she was smirking knowingly and telling her she had the perfect combat boots to go with her skinny jeans.

It was nine PM and Rachel was pacing up her living room wearing said outfit along with a long sleeved, boat neck, pearly gray, form fitting shirt. While the boots wouldn't have been her first choice, she was altogether happy with the way she looked. Quinn hadn't given her a complete make-over to make Noah like her better like that one disastrous time with Kurt, and except for the boots every item of clothing belonged to her. No need for shopping and going to supreme lengths to look like someone she wasn't. She was wearing mascara and eye liner and Quinn had insisted that she tried a little foundation as well, but the effect was very clean and natural and Rachel didn't feel like she was painted like a door.

She heard his engine the minute it parked in front of the house and she fled out of the front door stopping only to close it, giving him no time to do the gentlemanly thing and step away from his truck to greet her properly. She didn't mean to look desperate and over eager, but her body language wasn't really paying attention to propriety right now. As she climbed in the cab Rachel was met with his amused gaze.

"Easy there chipper," he grinned as he leaned over and brushed his lips on her hers. It was too light for Rachel's liking and she would have loved to deepen the kiss, but she figured they had all night for that. There was nothing wrong with savouring the moment. "Ready to go?"

"Sure am," she smiled and he drove away. "Are you going to tell me where we're going?"

"Nope," he smirked. She pouted. "It's a surprise Berry. Suck it up."

She smiled playfully and buckled her seat belt. Safety first. "I thought you worked Saturday nights," she mentioned staring at him staring at the road.

He glanced sideways and smirked knowingly. "I do."

"So you're taking me to your work place?" she furrowed confused. "I don't think you ever told me where you work," Rachel bit her lip as she tried to recall a time when she'd heard him even talking about his work.

Puck chuckled. "That's on purpose."

"It's a surprise too?" he nodded. "I bet I can guess."

"Okay," Puck ginned sparing a glance at her lovely face. "You get twenty yes or no questions. Go crazy."

Their destination was two towns over, about a two hour drive. After Rachel failed pathetically and became no closer to guess where he worked at, she tried to bring about the conversation of where their relationship stood. She figured they had plenty of time to talk and that once they arrived to wherever it was Noah was taking them, they would leave that truck as the two halves of a committed couple.

He turned her down though, saying that he had to pay attetion to the road and that their conversation was to important to have it fall to seccond place in his mind. Rachel understood, after all she didn't want to be a distraction to the road and posibly cause them to crash or something.

When they finally arrived Rachel found herself staring out the window openly gaping.

It was a bar.

The kind that doesn't let underage kids enter.

Noah was insane if her though she would approve of going in there.

"I don't approve of going in there," she voiced huffed.

Puck sighed and turned off the engine. "Look in the glove compartment. I got you a present."

She carefully followed his command and opened the small compartment. In there she found a brown envelope, seemingly empty. With his encouraging look, Rachel opened it and took out a drivers license.

She gaped some more. If weren't so afraid of her going batshit over him he would have laughed at how comical she looked.

"I am not comiting a felony," Rachel gasped outraged.

"It's not a felony," he argued mildly.

"It's identity theft!" she cried staring at him. "There's probably a Maria Cherry in the world and I'm sure she wouldn't appreciate it that's I'm using her name."

"It's just for one night," he assured her, kind of disappointed that she hadn't remarked on how much effort he'd put on coming up with her fake name (Maria -West Side Story; Cherry -Berry-; got it?).

"You're involved in illegal activities," Rachel shook her head, shocked. "That's how you come up with money to take care of your daughter?"

Wait, was she guilt tripping him?

"I'm not doing anything illegal," Puck stated growing angry. This was so not how he'd pictured the night would go.

She gave him a crooked stare.

"Fine," he snapped. "If you wanna stay in the truck, stay. I'll be inside."

And just like that he slammed the door closed after him and started to the front door where the bouncer shook his hand and let him in without flinching.

* * *

Rachel was completely, one hundred percent against using her fake ID. Really, it was a felony. Certain places, like this bar, were banned from receiving underage costumers for a reason and it wasn't her place to complain about it. Surely, a bunch of educated, rational thinking elected citizens had viewed all aspects of the situation and came up with the ban simply because it was the right thing to do and the safest way to keep underage alcohol consumption to a minimum. And if she didn't need to pee so badly, Rachel would have stayed in the truck until Noah returned.

No one looked at her strangely as she walked in the bar looking for the restroom. The place was packed and they were all staring at the live band in the stage. She admitted they sounded pretty good and there was something familiar with it, but as she didn't know the song and was busy trying to look like she belonged there and like she wasn't a high school student, Rachel didn't paid them much attention.

_If it keeps on rainin' levee's goin' to break _  
_If it keeps on rainin' levee's goin' to break _  
_When the levee breaks have no place to stay _

She needed to find the restroom and she needed to find it _now_.

_Mean old levee taught me to weep and moan _  
_Mean old levee taught me to weep and moan _  
_Got what it takes to make a Mountain Man leave his home _  
_Oh, well, oh, well, oh, well_

The restroom was blissfully empty. It wasn't filthy or anything but she would like to say a thing or two to the manager of the place about the dangers of a leaking tap and the gallons of wasted water that it entailed. She could vaguely hear the song being played and she took a moment to remove her leather trench coat and check her make up before reappearing in the bar again. She figured since she was already in there she could go and find Noah and try to mend their night. She should find the manager and ask him.

_When the levee breaks, mama, you got to move._

_All last night sat on the levee and moaned _  
_All last night sat on the levee and moaned _  
_Thinking about my baby and my happy home_

"Excuse me, hello," she smiled at the bartender amongst the throng of patrons. "I'm looking for--" wait, Noah hadn't told her what fake name he was using. She didn't want to out him as an underage felon. "--a guy with a mohawk," she finished her sentence weakly.

The bartender gave her a funny look, like she was crazy or drunk or just plain stupid (no need to say Rachel did not enjoy they look). "Over there," the guy nodded toward the stage.

_Going down - going down, now _  
_Going down - going down, now _  
_Going down - going down, now _  
_Going down _

It was Noah. The live band was Noah.

He was smirking at her as he held the last note, teasing her with his eyes as he stopped his strumming and turned to the middle aged man on the drums and whispered something to him.

Rachel's brain was officially not working. She could not for the life of her put together a single sentence. She was charmed, astonished, thunder-stuck. And she could not stop looking at him.

"There's someone special here tonight," Puck said into the mike with his patent lopsided grin in place as he watched Rachel hold on to the bar for support, piercing into his eyes. "So this one goes out for her."

He started strumming the guitar intro and smiled to her. It was the most honest and purest smile he had ever given any girl.

_Lay, lady, lay, lay across my big brass bed_  
_Lay, lady, lay, lay across my big brass bed_  
_Whatever colors you have in your mind_  
_I'll show them to you and you'll see them shine_

_Lay, lady, lay, lay across my big brass bed_  
_Stay, lady, stay, stay with your man awhile_  
_Until the break of day, let me see you make him smile_  
_His clothes are dirty but his hands are clean_  
_And you're the best thing that he's ever seen_

_Stay, lady, stay, stay with your man awhile_  
_Why wait any longer for the world to begin_  
_You can have your cake and eat it too_  
_Why wait any longer for the one you love_  
_When he's standing in front of you_

_Lay, lady, lay, lay across my big brass bed_  
_Stay, lady, stay, stay while the night is still ahead_  
_I long to see you in the morning light_  
_I long to reach for you in the night_  
_Stay, lady, stay, stay while the night is still ahead_

The crowd broke into cheering and appreciative applause and Puck announced they were taking a short break before they came up stage. He headed directly to Rachel feeling suddenly shy and self-conscious. He remembered feeling exactly like that when he'd performed Sweet Caroline for her the first time; apparently it wasn't stage phobia or some shit like that. He had no problem playing and singing for stranger. Rachel Berry unnerved him.

And he had rendered speechless. That sure was big stroke to his ego.

"We have about fifteen minutes before I have to go back," Puck whispered in her ear when he reached her, caressing her hand before holding it with his. "Wanna make out?"

As all form of response, Rachel dragged him to a corner of the establishment and pushed him against the wall. "You have the hottest job," she breathed in between wet kisses.

* * *

It was Monday. Rachel hadn't seen Noah in twenty eight whole hours since he dropped her off at her house in the wee hours of the Sunday after they returned from the bar, leaving her with a searing kiss and the promise of talking to her later that day. As much as she wished they could meet on Sunday, Rachel knew it not possible. Noah had mentioned he had bunch with his family and that he was helping his grandfather with some handiwork around the old man's house which would probably take up the rest of the day and Rachel wasn't able to meet him at night because her dads were returning from their trip to San Diego and she wanted to clear the air with them as soon as possible. Quinn had convinced her that talking was the best way to work out their issues and she was adamant that her dads lover her a lot and would do anything to see her happy, including revising their unconscious abandonment.

Her Dad had cried the minute she brought up the issue and lamented over his own neglected childhood (his mother was a single mom) and promised he would never ever again leave her. He was being over dramatic and thankfully Rachel's Daddy stepped in and told him that wasn't the solution. They arranged a therapy meeting with Rachel's childhood therapist for the whole family to work their problems in a safe and controlled environment with the help of a professional. Then they took her to have ice cream (and Rachel was so happy she didn't even protested about vocal cord damage).

But now it was Monday and she walked into the halls of McKinley High resolute to find Noah and finally have their talk. Nothing short of the apocalipse would stop her (and even then, she as sure she'd find the time to talk to him before they die).

Rachel found him waiting for her at her locker, casually leaning the row of lockers, holding a familiar white and red cup and with the straw safely tucked behind his ear. Apparently, they'd had the same idea. She grinned as her heart skipped a beat and approached him.

Puck smiled warmly, slightly frowning noticing the slushie she was holding out for him to take. "It's blue raspberry," she said. "I know it's your favourite because every time you'd toss a blue raspberry one in my face it was already halfway down, so I figured you drank it before you could find me."

He grinned like an idiot. "You stole my line, you know," he pointed out as he gently took the slushie she was offering him and handing out her grape one.

"It's a good line," she retorted . "Very effective."

"That it is," he smirked and sipped the cold beverage.

(In case you were wondering, blue raspberry really was his favourite.)

"So, I was wondering if you would be interested in skipping first period so we can have our talk," Rachel said taking the straw between her teeth and looking up at him.

That was the hottests thing he'd ever heard her say. "Sure," he leaned over and brushed their cold lips together. "But only if we skipped second period to make out."

She blushed and smiled shyly. Nevertheless, she let him drag her by the hand to the bleachers, being openly stared at.

* * *

**I just updated a major chapter, you have to agree with me here. I don't mean to sound too full of myself or anything, you gotta love the Puckelberry in this one. So, hit the green button and leave a big, fat, juicy review. I deserve it!!!**

**Okay, so begging is highly unattractive, so I'm gonna stop my rambling right now. And if you're wondering about Tom, Jake and Luke's payback, it'll be featured on next chapter.**

**XOXO REVIEW!!!**


	12. First cut

**Things to know about this chapter: it takes place exactly seventeen days after the basketball game and it features flashbacks that explain the current conflicts in New Directions. and this is a three parter.**

**I don't own Glee or "Baby, I love you".**

* * *

Chapter 12: First cut

"Okay, guys, I know last couple of weeks have been--" Mr. Schuester visibly struggled to find a word that would describe accurately just how terrible things have been, but in a mild way so that no one would get worked up over it and hence ruin their performance. "--tough," he chocked out finally, glancing at Ms. Pillsbury standing next to him looking for support. "But it's Regionals and I'd hate it if you didn't go out there and bring down the house because I _know _how hard you've worked and you deserve that trophy."

"Don't worry Mr. Schuester," Rachel assured him standing still before her fellow team mates. Her megawatt smile was in place and enlightened the dark backstage, but her eyes were shimmering cold. "If there's one thing New Directions has mastered the art of, it is deflecting from our overly dramatic issues and pretend we're friends on stage. No one in that room is going to see us perform and think our energy is anything but exhilarating happiness."

One warning glance back to the eleven teens and her message became clear (_and if that doesn't happen, I'll kill you and they'll never find your bodies_).

"Great," Mr. Schue nodded weakly. He was sure Lillian Adler hadn't had to put up with shit like he had to in the past weeks and he knew back in his day teenage drama wasn't so so-- dramatic.

_"Please welcome contestant number four, McKinley High New Directions!"_

"That's our cue," he smiled and gestured to the stage. "You are gonna do great, guys! You don't need luck," he assured them, receiving quite a few shrewed looks as they went on stage to their places. "To hell with it," he whispered to Emma. "They're so gonna need it."

_Three days ago_

_"It looks like something Sandy Rierson would wear," Artie pointed out with his ever present deadly seriousness. "And I mean that in the worst of ways."_

_Puck, Finn, Matt and Mike bowed their heads in agreement._

_"Well guys, Mercedes and Tina worked really hard on the costumes and I think a little appreciation is due," Schue said, careful to maintain his facial expression unreadable._

_Dress rehearsal had gone surprisingly well up until the costumes for the 'Baby, I love you' routine were handed out, considering the battlefield that New Directions general existence had turned into in the past two weeks. Schue had been hoping his kids would bury the hatchet and come together as a team just like they did before Sectionals, but in three days he had to ride a bus with them for six hours and he sincerely didn't think they were all going to make it alive._

_In all honesty, he admitted he should've pre-approved the costumes before it was too late to modify them. They were due for three acts on three consecutive days which meant three different costumes (Figgins hadn't been psyched about this, since his sixty seven dollars a month hardly covered it, but given that the club was having another bake sale to pay for Artie's special bus, Schue managed to guilty him into upping their budget) and so far the first two sets of costumes turned out more than fine. But this one? They were going to throw fruit at them._

_The girls attire was fine, the colors clashed a little but they worked around it with their general cuteness. The costume consisted in a simple yellow baby doll dress with ruffled short sleeves, a bright pink ribbon right under the breast line and showing off the large baby bumps the girls were wearing under the dresses to match Quinn's and pink lace peaking from under the hem making the short length not too indecent. It was altogether pretty and cute and it suited the song theme and the girls, while in their fake pregnant glory, look just wonderful. The boys was another matter._

_They were clad with beige dress pants, pink button up shirt and bight yellow suspenders. Schue didn't know whether Mercedes and Tina had done it on purpose or if it was an honest mistake, but the guys had every right to hate it. Despite the numerous times he had heard Puck said he could wear a dress to school and make it look cool, Schue could clearly see the mohawked teen struggling to keep up his badass intimidatory vibes while wearing the uncomfortable looking costume. Even Kurt was unhappy ("You need to consult with me before you make fashion decisions! The only way this outfit could work would be if we performed in the dark for blind people!")_

_"Thank you, Mr. Schue," Mercedes said humbly._

_He nodded. "Okay, so every one to your places, let's start form the top."_

_The guys shared a look of understanding. "Uh, Mr. Schue?" Finn decided to take the bullet and stepped up. "No offence to Mercedes and Tina, but we can't perform with this outfit."_

_He smiled warmly. "I know you're feeling self-conscious rgiht now, but a lot of men wear pink," he patter his shoulder affectionately._

_"It's not really about the color," Matt added, carefully avoiding looking at Mercedes._

_"It's just ugly all the way around," Mike said with no qualms._

_"Trust me, it could be a lot worse," somewhat embarrassed, Schue added. "In my first Invitational, we wore aluminium foil."_

_"Why?" Puck frowned._

_"It was a futuristic themed song-- The point is you're going to do great no matter what you're wearing," he lied bold face._

_"Mr. Schuester?" Rachel raised her hand and Schue sighed: it was about time she put in her two cents. "Need I point out that we need to to make the first cut with this routine?"_

_"What does that mean?" Santana asked from the back._

_"It means that if the judges don't like it we don't get to perform the rest of out set list," Rachel informed rapidly. Everyone shared anxious glances and Mercedes hid her head in her hands. "It's not like Sectionals, when we performed one song after another regardless of the order. The first cut is made by a free themed group song; those who make it get to perform their duets for semi-finals and only then be eligible for the last round: the mandatory themed song."_

_"Thank you Rachel," Schue barely hid his annoyance. Last thing he needed was her bringing them down with technicalities when the mood was already gloomy._

_Rachel did notice her teacher's irritation though and stormed to her place on the top of the two large steps on the center of the stage. The rest followed suit._

Present

On the darkened stage and waiting for the curtains to open New Directions held their positions. Forming a wide semi-circle, the girls were standing two feet from each other, Rachel and Tina on top of the highest platform step, Mercedes and Santana on opposite sides of the first step and Brittany and Quinn closing the formation stage level, all of them with their backs to the audience while the guys stood in Line in the middle of the semi-circle, their hands clasped behind their backs. The curtains opened and they were illuminated.

As the band intro started and the girls swung their dresses and heads around, a few chuckles were heard from the back of the auditorium were Vocal Adrenaline was seated.

"Fuck it," Puck whispered a growl. "We're totally badass. We're kicking their asses wearing this fucking outfit."

"Let's rock," Finn said determined before opening with his lines.

**Have I ever told you**  
**how good it feels to hold you?**  
**It isn't easy to explain**

The guys broke the line and headed straight for the nearest girl in formation: Artie with Quinn, Puck with Mercedes, Finn with Rachel, Kurt with Tina, Mike with Santana and Matt with Brittany, so that they were singing to them directly as the girls turned around and circled around their positions in a flirty way but keeping distance from the boys who pretended to chase them as they serenaded them.

**_And though I'm really tryin'_**  
**_I think I may start cryin'_**  
**My heart can't wait an other day**  
**When you kiss me I just gotta**  
**_kiss me I just gotta_**  
**_kiss me I just gotta say_**

The boys joined the girls up in their respective steps (except Artie and Matt, since Quinn and Brittany were stage level) and mashed their voices for the chorus.

_**Baby, I love you**_  
**Come on baby!**  
_**Baby, I love you**_  
_**Baby I love, I love only you.**_

It was the girls' turn to sing to the boys, with Rachel opening the lead.

_I can't live without you_  
_I love everything about you_  
_I can't help it if I feel this way._

The guys swept the girls off their feet and gently spun the around.

_Oh I'm so glad I found you_  
_I want my arms around you_

From Artie's lap, Quinn breathed out her line.

_I'd love to hear you call my name._

The girls were back on their feet and the they were doing ball room dance moves in partners.

_Oh tell me that you feel_  
_Tell me that you feel_  
_Tell me that you feel the same!_  
**_Baby, I love you_**  
**_Come on baby_**  
**_Baby, I love you_**  
**_Baby I love, I love only you._**

"Guys, that was great!" Schue congratulated them with a huge grin in his face. He'd kept an eye on the judges and the audience and other than the initial shock of the ridicule guys' outfit and girls' baby bumps, they got a great response. Many of the people actually awwed at several parts because it was just really cute in an awkward, color crashing kind of way. Schue had even seen Quinn's baby's adoptive parents among the crowd and while he fairly geographically distanced, he was pretty sure he saw tears.

At the very least, they'd get ponts for originality.

"There are ten more teams to go today and we will hear the judges cut at 3 PM, so you have three free hours to do what you want," Miss Pillsbury added with a bright smile. "We could do some interesting team bonding activities. I have a few trust exercises I'd like to try--"

That was not happening. Trust withing New Directions? Snowy day in Hell was more likely. Rachel and Quinn wanted to check out the competition, so they headed to their assigned seats after changing into normal clothes. Rachel invited Puck to join them but since she visibly lacked enthusiasm, he went upstairs to crash in his room. Kurt convinced Finn to go with the girls, and he accepted as long as h didn't have to sit next to Quinn. Matt approached Mercedes carefully, but she brushed him off saying she had things to do and stormed off. Santana and Brittany, odd enough the only ones who weren't actually in a fight with anybody and were just being dragged along for the Glee club horrendous drama ride, decided to go to the mall and extended the invitation to anyone who was up for a break from the show choir craziness. After glaring at Artie and Mike, Tina followed them. Artie and Mike glared at each other and parted in opposite directions. Matt made sure to snort at Mike as he passed by and Mike refused to acknowledge him when he tripped him.

Schue closed his eyes and sighed long suffering. Emma reassuringly patted his forearm. "It'll work out fine Will."

_Five days ago_

_"San, you're one beat too early," Finn pointed out nicely to the girl behind the piano. "There must be a note you're missing."_

_"Okay?" she tried the sequence one more time trying to find her mistake._

_"Right there, after the second stanza," Puck added._

_She tried it one more time and this time when Finn's drum and Puck's guitar joined it sounded like it was supposed to. "Thank you guys, Rachel would've bitch slapped me in the middle of Regionals if I got it wrong."_

_Puck's jaw tightened at the mention of his girlfriend's name, if she could still be called that. He wasn't really sure what was the status of their relationship at the moment: she hadn't spoken to him in two days, but she hadn't formally broken up with him and Puck sure as hell wasn't gonna, so he guessed they were still together, but royally pissed at each other and avoiding whatever circumstance that entailed talking to one another._

_The door of the choir room opened suddenly and Tina burst in crying pathetically, closely followed by Artie._

_"Shit," Finn cursed under his breath._

_"You can't just come after all this time and expect things to be cool Artie!" Tina sobbed putting distance between them._

_"You said you wanted everything to go back to the way it was before," he cried dumb-struck. "I'm trying--!"_

_"Well, it's too late!"_

_"But I love you!"_

_It was like someone had switched off the sound. No one was breathing, all eyes focused on Tina, watching her silently crying and waiting for her reaction to the L word confession._

_"You should've thought about that before you broke my heart," she whispered, the tears leaving a thick, black trace over her pale cheeks._

_Artie's head bowed down in defeat and he wheeled out of the room. Tina slowly turned around, hugging herself and looked at Mike, who was frozen in place where he and Brittany had been going through the 'Don't stop me now' routine._

_"Mike," she said in a small, weak voice._

_He winced, snapping out of it and shook his head avoiding her gaze. "You still have feelings for him," it wasn't a question and that was definitely sorrow darkening his voice._

_Tina sobbed his name one more time and took a step closer to him, but Mike flinched away. "I can't talk to you right now," he murmured and fled the room._

_She stood alone for a second before both Brittany and Santana rushed to her side and hugged her, whispering comforting words that only seemed to make Tina cry harder. They dragged her limb body off to the bathroom._

_"I did not see that one coming," Puck confessed genuinely shocked, momentarily forgetting Finn was the only one left in the room with him._

_"I thought Tina and Mike were related," Finn frowned. "They have the same last name."_

Present

"I'm really sorry about the whole accessory in kidnapping affair after the game," Kurt whispered offhandedly staring at the Oakland High Glee club on stage, his foot swinging with the tune. "We shouldn't have gotten involved, even if slushing them with no good reason was extremely douchy."

"That's Okay," Finn half smiled. "They were right, I took it out on them when they weren't the real problem. In the end it was kinda fun."

Kurt knit his perfectly arched brows and stared at the glock sitting next to him. "You were stranded for a whole cold night waiting for a tow and with a dead deer on the road."

"Yeah, it could've probably gone a lot better."

_Seventeen days ago_

_"You killed Bambie."_

_Tom took a long cleansing breath before retorting to Finn's brilliant observation. "It was an accident, and it wouldn't have happened if you had just stayed quiet."_

_"You kidnapped up!" Mike said outraged._

_"You slushied us, we have the right to get even," Luke countered._

_"Great job," Matt snorted. "Next time buy a slushie. Zero chances of ending up in the middle of nowhere that way."_

_"Anyone got a signal?" Jake cut in poking his phone ot the window. "I have a bar but it's not putting me through."_

_The others tried with their own phones to similar results. "Twenty first century my ass," Matt growled._

_"What was the plan anyway?" Finn asked genuinely interested after a while of silence._

_Tom sighed and turned around to face him. "Drive out of Lima and leave you on the side of the road," he shrugged. "Nothing fancy."_

_"Turns out the big guy upstairs played a little prank on you," Mike smiled smugly. "It's karma."_

_Luke stared at him long and hard. "I know how to to pig pin you to the floor and put your leg around your neck using only my right arm," he informed him curtly._

_"Nobody is gonna hit anybody," Tom intervened sighing tiredly. "There's a gas station a couple of miles back. We're just gonna walk there, call a tow and get a ride back home."_

_Tom didn't think it was necessary for all of them to go but Finn had watched enough horror movies to know that the minute your group separated the maniac killing started. When Tom pointed out that horror movies were fictional, Luke, of all people, took Finn's side._

_"What about Wolf's Creek? That's based on a true story," he said carefully._

_"So is Jaws," Mike added staring warily off to the distance._

_That's how they ended up walking by the side of the road for over and hour, quietly at first until they started talking about Call of Duty and Halo. When the gas station was visible in the distance, Jake asked the question that had been eating him since lunch that day._

_"Why did you do it?" the other five fell silent. Tom and Luke stared at Finn. "Was it because of Puck?"_

_Fin's head tilted up so fast Jake was sure he'd get whiplash. "He was my best friend," he breather sourly. "He hurt me."_

_"Gertie and us had nothing to do with it," Luke pointer out curtly._

_"Yeah, but--" his jaw tightened. "He shouldn't have to get everything to easy," he gritted out._

_Mike and Matt joined the wrestlers furrowed expression. It was the very first time Finn actually talked about Puck._

_"He never apologized," Finn went on, his gaze stubbornly fixated on the dusty ground. "It was the least he could do and he didn't do it. When we were ten I let him borrow my favourite baseball glove and he lost it. He was so sorry I had to hose him off my frown lawn every morning until I forgave him. He fucking camped there," he growled. "What he and Quinn did is a hundred times worse and it's like he doesn't care."_

_"He cares," Tom assured him softly._

_"Sure don't look like it," he stared off to the gas station and quickened his step._

_"Actually, I think I know why he hasn't apologized," Matt said somewhat embarrassed. Finn stopped walking and stared at him like he wanted to his friend to spontaneously combust. "A while back he kind of did me a favour, like out of the blue, and I asked him why he wouldn't fight back when we like lay it on him," he went on quickly stumbling on his own words. "He said he deserves it, man."_

_"We tried to talk to him about it once," Tom added with a shrug. "He told us to fuck off but we're pretty sure he like enjoyed getting beaten up because it made him feel like it was the right thing to do."_

_Finn stared at the five guys before him, impervious to the chilly air. "That's the most stupid thing I've ever heard."_

_"Puck's not very bright," Mike pointed out. "He had to google prostate to know if chicks have one."_

_They went back to their walking talking nonsense again, only this time Finn didn't participate in the conversation. He would stare off to the distance (he tripped twice on his own gigantic feet as he was paying no attention to the road) with this strangely calm air around him._

_"You know, you could talk to Miss Pillsbury about it," Luke suggested to the side while Tom called a tow and Matt, Mike and Jake went crazy on the shop. "They made me talk to her when they found out I was breeding crickets on the wood shop utilities closet, and she was really cool."_

_"Thanks man," Finn smiled. "How did you manage to get the crickets under control? Didn't they like try to scape or something?"_

_"Well, they had a mutiny at first," Luke said completely serious. "But after I lay down the law they were pretty cool. I have pictures if want to check them out."_

_Finn nodded excitedly as Luke dig out his phone._

Present

"I need to go take a walk," Quinn whispered to Rachel as the crowd cheered to exiting glee club. "Chairs aren't really my friends today."

"Do you want me to help you practice the breathing exercises to position the baby more comfortably?" Rachel asked reaching for her purse.

Quinn smiled. "We need you here to keep an eye on the competition," she winked. "I'll be fine."

"Okay. Call me if you need anything."

Finn's eyes followed her as she struggled with her belly passing through the rows of seat apologizing profusely.

_Fourteen days ago_

_Quinn was minding her own business when the cold cherry slushie hit her straight in the face. With her eyes tightly closed (corn syrup was a bitch in the eyes) she heard Dylan Smith's distinctive laugh as he walked away. Now, where were her Kleenex?_

_As she reached for them in her purse, Quinn heard a collective gasp and the sound of a hundred and seventy pounds of a basketballer (give or take) hit the row of lockers. Then there was the hushed whisper of a threat and then (her eyes were finally clean) she was staring up the sweet eyes of one awkward looking Finn Hudson._

_"You Okay?" he asked lowly._

_Quinn had no idea what had happened to her voice but it wasn't cooperating a the moment. She nodded. Finn bit the inside of his cheek and fidgeted slightly. She started shaking._

_"Do you want me to call someone like, I dunno, Rachel?" he offered._

_She shook her head (what was wrong with her?!). "I, uh, I'll text her when I get to the bathroom."_

_"'Key," he nodded again. "I can walk you there and take your books or something."_

_Rendered to the most basic form of language once again, Quinn nodded and blushed slightly._

_(It was really hard to tell though, since her cheeks were cold and covered in icy cherry goo.)_

_"So, uh, Puck said you weren't feeling well on Friday," Finn's eyes were glued to the floor and her made sure to keep a respectful distance._

_"Yeah, that'll teach me not to stuff my stomach with Twinkies during a horror movie marathon," she said trying to ease the conversation. Finn's head snapped up and looked at her right in the eye. "We had a sleepover with Puck and Rachel," Quinn explained growing anxious. She was navigating unfamiliar waters and her compass was totally off it's north._

_"You had a spooky night?" Finn gasped._

_"A-- what?"_

_"Nothing," he blushed ten shades of red and stopped by the girl's bathroom. He handed her her books. "So, see ya."_

_"Bye."_

Present

There was a total of fourteen schools competing and only seven of them would be making the first cut. Vocal Adrenaline's performance had been simply spotless, no one chuckled at their costumes or their song theme and the girls danced in ten inches stilettos. They performed Mercy and got an up standing ovation. It was clear that they'd be on the top of the judges' official list. But Rachel knew all this already. Vocal Adrenaline might be THE team to beat at Regionals, but they weren't their only competition. And while she didn't deemed some of the other groups' set lists worthy of Regionals, there were some that undoubtedly would be making it it to the second round.

However, Rachel refused to feel threatened by them. She'd meant it all those months back when she lashed at Dakota Stanly: New Directions was going to win because they were special. She just hoped that the judges had seen that rather than all the drama that kept transpiring between them.

The last group performed at 2:20 PM and by 2:25 Rachel was already perched in front of the notice board placed in the hotel lobby waiting for the judges to post the official list of semi-finalist. She fully realised how silly she looked, stubbornly staring at the empty piece of carton board picturing a white sheet with New Directions name on it, in plain sight of all the lurking members of the other glee clubs who waited just as impatiently, only not so enthusiastically.

As the minutes went by the loby started to fill with more glee clubbers and vocal directors. A few of them ventured to stand next to Rachel, but she was adamant in not leaving her position. Short term goals were the key to long term success and she was keen on appearing on that list. When they did, she wanted to be the first one to see it.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw New Directions crowded together in a corner counting the minutes.

(She also noticed Noah trying to catch her eye, as well as his thunderous doomy gloom.)

At exactly 2:59 PM one of the judges came into the lobby and broke through the mass of singers and dancers in his way to reach the notice board. There was a collective sharp breath in-take and those who were close enough to read the list quickly raked their eyes over it erupting in joy in some cases and cursing in others.

Rachel's face remained unreadable as she marched over to her her fellow glee clubbers. Had it not been such a serious, important moment, more than one of them would have thought it was funny how everybody in her way took one look at her demeanor and stumble to the side.

(Had Puck not been so at odds with their relationship, he would have thought she looked hot and dragged her to some place more private.)

She stood in front of them in her full mad-woman glory.

"We're on the list," she whispered and everyone sighed content. "We barely made it," she went on icy cold. "We're seventh, which means we're almost as bad as the teams that didn't make it. There's _nothing _to be relieved about," she spitted.

"Rachel, that's quite enough," Mr. Schue said quietly. He wouldn't let her taint the joy of the victory.

Her head snapped to the side and she stared at him like it was the first time she ever saw him. "Why don't you tell them the truth?" Rachel wondered angrily. "Why don't you tell them that if we don't place at Regioanls, Figgins is going to pull the plug on glee club?"

_That_ made the rest unhappy.

"How do you know that?" he asked tightly.

"It doesn't matter how I know it," Rachel shook her head visibly upset. "Glee is my ticket out," Puck cursed under his breath, but she didn't hear him. "I won't let you ruin it because you want them to feel good about themselves," she swallowed and turned to face her team mates once again. "We're better than seventh place. I know we're going to win, but we _have _to work harder."

_Seven days ago_

_Will Schuester had noticed two things. One, the fourteen seniors weren't cut out for show choir, and two, Rachel wasn't berating him about it and insisting that he kicked them out of the Glee club before they ruined their chances to win Regionals and inevitably ruin her life. Kurt had done so several times and quite heatedly, Mercedes had commented on it during rehearsal after a painfully sharp girl managed threw away the entire dynamics of the song. Mike, Brittany and Santana had come to him repeatedly during the week and told him in no good terms that half the seniors couldn't dance and that there was no time to teach them. They weren't as bad and dorky as Finn, they had said, but it wasn't like they had particularly wonderful voices that compensated their ultimate suckish dancing. Artie had his patented, piercing I-can-see-right-into-your-soul-and-I-don't-like-what-I'm-seeing look when he approached him after practice one day and said that one of the guys (the one who could play the bass) had a go on his electric guitar without his permission and now his C string needed replacing. But Rachel? She hadn't complained not one time and she had plenty of material to complain about._

_Schue was actually worried. It was completely un-like Rachel and he needed Rachel at her finest for Regionals. Yes, he knew she and Puck had gotten back together and if the repeated times he'd caught them in the storage closet told him something was that Rachel was blissfully distracted. Her performance, astonishingly, had become more powerful and it was like her hyper positive energy was always keeping the guys on constant one hundred percent confident mode._

_But she wasn't nagging, and while it was nice, it wasn't right._

_And the seniors were really not doing well. There was too much people on stage and the choreography wasn't working and the chorus sounded too foggy for anyone's liking and if there was someone, anyone, who should rightly break hell onto them, it was Rachel. Schue had been keeping an eye on her and it was clear that she had been, for some reason, biting her tongue and keeping her intenseness to a low ebb. He feared that she'd explode at one point and the others had noticed too. That's the main reason why Mike and Matt messed with her every time they could and why Kurt would suggest they added more of Mercedes' chocolate thunder over Rachel's lines and her reaction, which involved a sharp in take of breath and a disturbingly nice smile, was so-- civil and collected and nice. It just wasn't Rachel at all._

_"I'm concerned," Schue started as Rachel sat on the other side of his desk, wordlessly waiting for him to elaborate. "While I don't doubt for a second that your commitment to Glee is as strong as always, I noticed you've acting a little strangely lately."_

_"Can I be honest?" Rachel whispered sneaking a glance to the closed door. "I'm going crazy."_

_"Oh?"_

_"I've been trying to tone down my relentless intensity mainly because I don't want Noah to think I'm insane, even though he has assured me several times that he likes my particular brand of crazy as he so gallantly puts it, but I truly don't know how long I'm going to last before I snap," she took one big breath, generally acknowledged as the prelude to one of her long speeches. "We cannot compete with the seniors on the team. They are slackers, they don't work their scales and no matter how specific are the notes me or Kurt give them they just don't put any effort om improving vocally. They are all here because they think it's going to get them into a good college and while I applaud their ambition I cannot bear losing our opportunity at Regionals after all the hard work and the months -years, in my case- of slushie facials and public hatred to the Glee Club. I was voted Captain, regardless of the circumstances of it, so I can no longer hold my tongue. If the seniors go to Regionals with us, we will lose."_

_She hadn't taked one breath. Like, for real. It was both marvelous and scary, but Schue thought some time soon he was going to have to check the World Guiness record for lung capacity because he was pretty sure Rachel would top it in her sleep._

_But on to the subject at hand. "I know what you mean, and I already talked to Ronnie and the others."_

_"They are gone?" Rachel smiled hopeful._

_"Yes. They said they'd rather go to community college than stick with us."_

_"Thank you so much, Mr. Schuester! I'd hug you, but I'm pretty sure that would entail a school rule violation," with that she stood up and marched cheerfully to the door._

_"Rachel?" he called just as she opened the door. "Don't be afraid to show you particular brand of crazy," he said with a lopsided smile. "Things just don't feel right when you aren't nagging us to better ourselves."_

_Rachel smiled shyly before leaving._

_(Schue wished he hadn't encouraged her.)_

Present

As he stared along the four tables put together in the hotel dinning room for New Directions, watching his team mates sullenly eat dinner and speak only when necessary, Puck wished longingly for the golden days where he didn't know or give a shit for the emotional rainbow of teen crappy drama that affected the people sitting along side him. At the beginning of last semester, Puck could've been seen slushing five of the people present, throwing one of them in dumpsters and locking another in portable bathrooms, pining over Quinn, having mind blowing three-somes with Santana and Brittany, farting in Mr. Shue's general presence and hanging out with Finn, Matt and Mike. Now? Now he knew exactly (and to the detail) what personal drama these people were going through and was even akin to feel commiseration and sympathy for them.

What had this club _done_ to him?

So, Mercedes wasn't talking to Kurt because Kurt had badly criticized her costume selection for the Baby, I love you routine and showed no sign of sympathy over her colossal mistake. However, she stood by his side being not talked to by Rachel, who was royally pissed after finding out Kurt and Mercedes had been working 'underground' and putting some of Mercedes chocolate thunder into Defying Gravity, with the intention of swing Mr. Shue and convince him that Mercedes would sound better both vocally and artistically alongside Kurt for the duet. Mr. Shuester actually considered it, so that's why Rachel wasn't talking to him unless it was related to Regionals.

And Rachel was constantly talking about Regionals, but it was more like a Regionals-related-week-long-monologue (no one was actively talking to her with the exception of Quinn, because _hello_, she was insane. They would just limit to be civil whenever she asked something directly at them).

But on with the personal drama, Mercedes added Matt to the list of people she chose to ignore. Why? Well, Puck guessed it had something to do with the fact that Matt still wanted to keep their love a secret, which ultimately failed since their very public DTR talk earlier in the week. In a perfect example of why High School was like a big freaky domino game, that particular argument brought about more issues, this time on Matt's side of the table. See, when Matt kept a secret, you couldn't even have him confess with a nipple twister, and in the sake of keeping his relationship uncomplicated with Mercedes, he didn't tell Mike or Finn a word about her. Finn was initially upset that he'd been kept in the dark but didn't really held a grudge (Finn was annoyingly forgiving lately), which was the exact opposite of Mike. He gave this big speech about friendship and honesty and ended it with some Chinese proverb no one understood (it was in Chinese, so that it had more impact) and called off their friendship until he trusted Matt again.

(Matt actually cried. He had no girl and no pal. Though, huh?)

Of course, the day after the choir room witnessed another dispute (seriously, the school was fairly big, why was it that every face-down involving the glee club ended up staged exactly in that room?), this time between the, until the moment unheard off, love triangle of Artie/Tina/Mike. When Matt found out about it (just as the rest, he didn't know there was something going on between Asian and Other Asian) he gladly laid it on Mike. So now they're angry at each other because they kept their respective love relationships from one another, while Mike avoided Tina for lying about her feelings for Artie, just as she wasn't talking to Artie for breaking her heart and Mike for not respecting her feelings on the matter. Oh, and Mike and Artie were also disputing Tina's love so they were pretty much biased against one another.

Amidst the general atmosphere of loathing, Quinn, Santana and Brittany remained impartial to most of it (San and Britt weren't thrilled over Rachel's insanity, but they were dealing with it graciously) and Miss. Pillsbury insisted on talking about their problems and working their issues as a team (thank God and Steve Jobs for the invention of the iPod; otherwise the bus drive would have ended up in both tear and bloodshed).

"I got us an extra hour in the auditorium to practice tonight," Rachel said from her seat between Quinn and Miss Pillsbury, in front of Santana.

"That's wonderful Rachel," Mr. Schue complimented her curtly. "I hope you had the decency of asking your friends if they were up for sacrificing resting time for it."

"We don't mind, right guys?" Santana said at one glancing at both Kurt and Finn.

"Sure," Finn nodded enthusiastically. "It's gonna be great."

Despite his resolution, Puck glanced at Rachel over the five seats that separated them, noticing her lips slightly tight as she watched Kurt shrug bored.

Stupid Hummel.

_Ten days ago_

_Rachel was instantly drawn to the sound of powerful exhilarating music. Just like every time she heard a particularly wonderful piece, she felt the tingles up her spine, her heart race as she waited for the next beat, the next note, and fell delighted in happy step, her mind blown away by the whirl pooling sensation of the music floating through the hallway and hugging her deeper core._

_(She didn't care what Noah had to say about the way she reacted to music. She was most definitely not having an ear orgasm.)_

_Also, she was in no way shocked that the voice belonged to Mercedes. They might have had their fair share of run ins in the past and were unlikely to see eye on eye on anything, but Rachel was not too self centered as to overlook the talent Mercedes possessed. She was a great performer and while her musical horizons could use some broadening, Rachel actually admired her._

_The song she was singing suited her. It was a deep soul tune, perfectly contrast with her soul shattering cries and yes, that was a High F she just hit--_

_Wait._

_Was that Defying Gravity? Rachel's Defying Gravity?_

_Yes it was._

_And that voice eagerly congratulating her? Definitely Kurt's._

_"What are you doing?" before she knew it (she blamed the blind rage drive that had possessed her) Rachel had burst into the choir room, making both Kurt and Mercedes jump guiltily. "You were singing Defying Gravity."_

_Rachel wasn't asking._

_"Yes she was," Kurt said bored as he inspected his nails. "Mercedes and I have been working on it for a while now. We think we've come up with something really special."_

_"This is a closed rehearsal," Mercedes bowed her head to the side and stared at Rachel until she exited the room to the opening notes of Defying Gravity._

_She wasn't crazy. Rachel knew she was abrasive and bossy and over-driven and over-enthusiastic and over-dramatic and a whole bunch of overs people loved to point out, but she was perfectly sane. And if she felt a pang in her gut that told her those two were up to no good, then she'd better watch her back._

Present

"Okay everyone, that sounded really good," Rachel smiled warmly feeling the gratification that comes alter two hours of working their behinds off and getting the expected result. Seeing her smile like that, so blossomy happy, Puck couldn't help to smile too (as he kept his back to everyone who could see him and pretended not to listed to a word she was saying, securing the latches of his guitar case).

Since not all twelve glee clubbers were performing n the duet, only those who did stayed in the auditorium to practice that night, meaning that when they walked in the elevator, there was only Rachel, Kurt, Santana, Finn and Puck, along with Mr. Schuester.

"Here we go," the teacher said as they stepped out of the elevator on the third floor. "Have a good night guys. Tomorrow's a big day," he waved as her opened the first door, his room, and disappeared behind it.

Finn was sharing with Mike since Mike couldn't be in the same room as Artie without trying to smother him in his sleep, or with Matt without the both of them weeping for their lost trust, which left Puck to share with Kurt. Santana was with Tina and Brittany with Quinn and just because Mr. Schue had a wicked sense of humor Rachel had to share accommodations with Mercedes. She hoped the other girl was already asleep. Rachel was too tired to navigate the tumultuous waters of freneminess.

"Kurt, your room is that way," Rachel pointed to the door Noah had disappeared behind after awkwardly nodding at her.

"I need to ask you a favor," Kurt said regally as they stopped in front of Rachel's door. "I want to work things out with Mercedes. She's my best friend and I hurt her by showing no support over the costume fiasco."

"Yes, but what can I—oh," she caught the lingering meaning of his words (also, he was practically telling her so with his pointed stare). "No."

"Please?"

"No Kurt, it's inappropriate."

"He's your boyfriend!"

"That's besides the point," Rachel countered avoiding his gaze. She wasn't going to discuss the terms of her relationship with Noah with Kurt, of all people. "I'm sleeping in my room."

"No, you're not!"

In one quick, fluid movement he snatched the card key off her hand, opened the door and barricaded himself behind it.

"Kurt! Let me in!" Rachel pounded on the door as hard as she could without making a racket. She didn't want to disturb everyone else's rest.

"No! Go sleep with your boyfriend!"

"I demand that you open this door, Kurt Hummel!"

"_Please_. I miss my best friend," he whispered the words so softly Rachel almost didn't catch them. Almost. He heard her sigh in defeat and knew he'd resulted victorious. "Your things are already in my room. Here," he slid his key under the door. "Sleep tight."

Making a mental note to destroy something Kurt loved in the near future, Rachel gathered herself and marched to room 3015.

**So? was it too confusing? remember there are two more to go featuring Regionals and they'll be similar to this one so what wasn't explained in flashback on this chapter, will be on the next two. (including the puckelberry love talk after the slushie trading and the issues that have them not talking.)**

**just something you should know about the song I used for this chapter. my mom used to sing Baby I love you to me when I was a baby and even though I know it's not really about an actual baby (she knows that too: she is just a Ramones fan firmly set against lullabies) that song has always had a special spot in my heart. when I hear it I instantly think of mothers and children and I thought the fake baby bump thing would be cute. feel free to tell me if it sucked.**

**Review please? You know how much I love long detailed reviews and they make me update faster!**


	13. The other direction

**I am so incredibly sorry this took me so long. I could list all my excuses, but I'm guessing you're far more interested in reading the actual chapter. So, you know, go read.**

Chapter thirteen: The other direction

He was obviously worn out. Not that everybody wasn't, of course; Rachel was well aware of the physical and psychological consequences such a tiring day had on all of her teammates. For example, if she could just strip down, jump in the shower and then sink into the inviting bed, she would die happy (Of course, that was just a saying. Rachel would never die happy until she'd achieved every single one of her dreams. But a warm shower would certainly help with her mood). They had woken up extremely early and hit the road at exactly four AM, stopping every now and then as Quinn's bladder demanded it, and the minute they arrived in Columbus, they were whirling in the chaos of the competition. There was simply no time to rest before their appearance on stage.

She knew he'd taken a power nap post-show, after he so _gallantly refused_ her invitation to join her and Quinn in the auditorium (note the sarcasm), but, as Noah had more than once commented, he was a guy who loved his naps and he needed at least ten hours of sleep to recover all his energy and function properly. Who knew being a professional badass 24/7 was that draining? That was probably why he'd fallen on the bed on his stomach, fully clothed and still over the covers, with all the lights burning and him still clutching his guitar strap. Probably his original intention was to rest for a second before he went through his sleeping ritual, but found himself giving in to slumber.

Rachel felt her heart ache. She missed him. He was her boyfriend and she wanted to _be _with him so badly, but they were just so mad at each other! How could she still want to crawl next to him, bury her face in his chest and just _forget _all the shit (pardon her French) when she was still angry? It wasn't logical.

They hadn't talked about what happened since it actually happened and Rachel was seriously not in the mood to get into it right now. She had to shine tomorrow and she couldn't do that if she stayed up all night arguing with him and making up. Because they were going to make up, that was inevitable. But more than the making up, both she and Noah needed their rest. Otherwise, they'd just end up blowing their performance come morning (no matter how enticing the making up part was). It was more pragmatic to let it pass for now, shove the argument to the darkest corner of her mind and pretend she didn't long for the feel of his callous hands holding hers, or his lips sweeping lazily over her mouth, or the sound of his breath hitching when she ran her hands down his ridiculous (sexy) stripe of hair, or the sensual way he growled her name, or--

"What are you doing here?" Puck asked softly, the green of his eyes rendered almost to black, his tone revealing nothing but exhaustion.

Rachel briefly wondered how long she had been staring at him before she stumbled on her words. "Kurt and Mercedes needed alone time, so he changed the sleeping arrangements to their liking."

His face furrowed as he sat up and stretched. "Do you want me to do something about it? There's a dumpster in the back of the hotel I can throw Hummel in and I can make Jones cry," he offered, watching her closely.

She shook her head and avoided his gaze. "Kurt seems to think that by spending the night in the same room, they'll work out their problems."

As the words left her mouth (and Noah's brow arched in feigned amusement), Rachel realized that the same could be applied to the two of them as well.

"Do you think it'll work?" he asked slowly as he picked at the blanket under him.

Rachel didn't know who they were talking about anymore. "Possibly," she said carefully. "There is a fair amount of romantic movies that suggest that it's a fine way for the main characters to resolve their issues. While the setting is not universally defined, they all seem to agree that forced togetherness and, preferably, isolation is the killer combo."

He smiled. He tried not to, he really did, but Puck ended up doing it anyway. It was so good having her speak to him again.

"However, Kurt and Mercedes are both tired and they should really see that the resolution of their conflict doesn't interfere with their rest," Rachel continued, looking down.

Puck kicked off his shoes and sprawled back on the bed. "Guess they can talk about it later."

Rachel smiled feeling a little more lighthearted. Agreeing not to talk but promising to do so later because they both wanted to was a relief (which was also the biggest understatement ever). She did not want to break up (and she thought – _hoped _– he didn't want to either).

"I would like to take a shower if that's okay with you," she mentioned as she went over to her suitcase. "I'll understand if you want to go first, though."

"Nah, I'll shower in the morning," Puck grunted, practically dozing off already.

Seeing that he intended to go to bed fully clothed, Rachel stomped across the room to him. "At least put on some appropriate night wear. You can't rest properly if you sleep in jeans. And I strongly suggest you shower tonight since you performed today and bacteria multiply in environments like that and cause some odiferous fermentation. And you should cover yourself with one of the many blankets under you because--"

"Wait," he sat up scowling at her. "Did you just say I stink?"

Rachel blinked and desperately wished the mothership chose that moment to take her. _You do not tell people their body odor is less than fresh!_ Mind-slapped by her own unexpected streak of frustration, Rachel's left hand found her hip bone as her head cocked to the side. "Will that get you to shower?"

"It won't now," he informed her, being every bit as stubborn as she was.

_So much for agreeing on not arguing._ Rachel rolled her eyes and slammed the bathroom door shut with more force than necessary.

Puck hardly blinked.

_Seven days ago._

_It wasn't like he needed the reminder that he was a shitty friend. Hello? There was a baby popping out of Quinn's __hoo-ha – that pretty much said it all. Why would Finn do that? Puck was stupid and an ass, but Finn wasn't like him. He was a nice guy, everybody's favorite person, and while he could get angry and express it accordingly, Finn was not cruel._

_Rachel came running behind him down the empty hall and she was having a hard time keeping up to his long strides. Normally, he would just slow __down and fall in step with her then circle her waist with his arm or hold her hand or lock her arm in the crook of his or any other form of 'She's mine, fuckers' he'd joyfully grown accustomed with in the past weeks. But now? He just kept walking, because he was fairly pissed and he did not want to take it out on his girlfriend._

_"Noah!" she called b__reathlessly, a hint of fear in her voice. "Noah, please wait!"_

_"No," he growled. "I need to get out of here."_

_"He didn't mean __to hurt you, I swear!" she sprinted before stopping in front of him, blocking his way. For someone who'd been dancing since before she could walk, she looked awfully agitated. The unshed tears glittering in her doe eyes did not help. "I promise, Finn wants to work things out, he didn't mean to be cruel--"_

_"Well, he sh__ould've tried something else!" He wasn't angry at her, Rachel had nothing to do with what had just happened with Finn, but there was no one else around and she was poking and of course he was going to lose it. He hated the fact that he made her flinch and take a hesitant step back. "Fuck," he ran his hand down his Mohawk. "Sorry."_

_"We thought it was a good idea," Rachel said softly and cupped his cheek. "Had I known you'd react like this--"_

_"You kn__ew he was gonna pull that off?" he turned his murderous gaze on her. "You _helped _him?"_

_She bit her bottom lip and the tears run down her cheeks unrestrained. "I'm sorry."_

_"Why? Why would you do that?"_

_"His intentions are __truly sincere, Noah--"_

_"Fuck that," he snorted, resisting the urge to shake her. "You're _my_ girlfriend, you're supposed to know what that shit is gonna do to me."_

_"Well, I thought it'd have a very different result," she countered hotly. "How dare you imply I was __oblivious or neglectful or that I did it on purpose to hurt you when all I tried to do was help you and your friend?"_

_"I didn't ask you to help me," he retorted and started walking away. He was not going to stay and fight with Rachel mere doors away from the choir room, where every one could clearly hear them._

_"Don't you walk away from me__, Puckerman!" she screeched and yanked his arm back to look at her. "You know what? One day you're going to have to get over yourself and how emotionally crippled you evidently are, because this? How you reacted to Finn's attempt to reach out? It's just as cruel and you're making things worse."_

_"Sure," he snorted derisively. "I'll do that when __you stop being a stuck-up, solo-snatching Nazi."_

_Rachel gasped. "I resent that!"_

_"Good to know were on the same page, _Berry_."_

_"Sure, _Puck_. Why don't you buy a slushie while you're at it?"_

Present

They were going to be the last to perform that day, according to the first cut order. The only good thing about that was that they'd leave a fresh impression on the judges' mind, but really, Rachel would just rather they get over with it earlier. Her mind was all over the place, she had trouble concentrating, she felt like a mess... It was bad. The entire day she'd been waiting for this moment, going through the notes over and over and over again and she was tired. She just wanted the day to end so she could just go to sleep.

Things that didn't help? The male lead of Vocal Adrenaline, Jesse something-or-other, and his bothersome little smirks (who did he think he was intimidating really? _Total Eclipse of the Heart_ was a sad excuse of a duet); Noah _not _showering the night before and taking more time than necessary that morning in the bathroom, while she waited impatiently, growing more annoyed every second she stood next to the door (and he had the nerve to tell her he was taking so long because _he had to wash his hair_); Kurt and Mercedes hugging and holding hands and being all friendly (ugh, was it absolutely essential that they displayed their obviously re-established friendship? They were making _everybody _uncomfortable); Finn losing his lucky drumsticks and freaking out because he just _couldn't _play without them; Tina crying _all day long _because she was forced to travel down the elevator with Mike and apparently drama ensued; Artie rolling over Mike's foot to punish him for making Tina cry (absolutely medieval); and Mr. Schuester insisting that everything was going to be _fine_.

Rachel was seriously starting to hate this song. Well, no, she wasn't (Idina have mercy on her). She loved _Defying Gravity_ and probably would forever. Elphaba was an iconic character and she was proud of performing the song. She just needed to channel all her frustration in a productive way.

She sighed as she and Santana stood together in front of the mirror, hearing the opening chords of the sixth group. At least this costume was infinitely better than the abomination Mercedes had come up with for the _Baby, I Love You_ number. It was the perfect Little Black Dress, all shiny satin and heart-shaped neckline and halter straps, form-fitting at the waist and fuller on the bottom. Kurt had been hell-bent on sequins since Mr. Schuester had given him the duet, so black, opaque sequins gave a touch of glitter to the bosom. The boys were wearing black dress pants and white shirts with no tie and Kurt had a matching satin vest with embroidered sequins. It was all very classy.

The one thing Rachel would have differently was the length of the dress. Don't get her wrong, she was a sucker for short skirts (God knows she owned possibly the largest collection of mini-skirts on the entire Northeast) but the hem of the dress barely reached her upper thighs. Even Santana had complained that the damn thing would ride up when she sat behind the piano. Rachel would have to be very careful on stage: if her arms went up just a little too high, it would be embarrassing. At least there were no heels on the equation.

"Two minutes guys," Mr. Schue called.

With one last look at the mirror, Rachel turned around and followed her teacher with Kurt next to her.

_Four days ago_

_"Kurt, Mercedes, that sounded really good!" Sch__ue clapped enthusiastically, encouraging his students to follow suit. "I gotta say, Mercedes, you were right with your dark thunder being the touch that song needed. I'm proud of all the time and effort you put in arranging the song."_

_"Thank you Mr. Schue," Mercedes eyes flicked to Rachel's sulking form ever so slightly._

_Next to Rachel, Quinn was gaping openly. Her friend might be too shocked to say anything, but Quinn loved confrontations. "Excuse me, Mr. Schue," she started off with that sweet, steely tone the population of McKinley had learned to fear. "Rachel is still singing the duet with Kurt, right?"_

_"Well__," he hesitated under the intense eyes of New Directions. "Regionals are this Monday and there's not much time for you guys to learn it... Unless you guys don't mind working this weekend?" he stared hopefully at Finn, Puck and Santana. "We can pull it off."_

_"That is not fair," Rachel stood up and stalked to her director. "You gave this part to me. You can't just toss me away because something better appeared. And frankly? Can't you see what they're __trying to do? Are you that naïve?"_

_"I don't like your tone Rachel," Schue said lowly. "And I __think you're entirely overreacting. Mercedes didn't get a chance to sing her ballad in Sectionals, after all."_

_"And that's my fault?" she snorted a laugh. "As a performer, she should have more than one song ready to belt out without notice. I'm sorry for being prepared and saving our chance__s at Sectionals," Rachel said ironically, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Plus," she stared directly at Mercedes. "She's singing the lead on Don't Stop Me Now."_

_"The female lead in that song __isn't as big and you know it," Schue reminded her._

_"Well, she arranged the song with Kurt," she pointed out. "If she wanted more line__s, she could've accomplished that task."_

_Schue sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What do you guys think?" he turned to the rest._

_"We already got the instrumental," Finn said glancing sheepishly at Kurt and Mercedes. "Sorry guys, but we worked really hard and changing it now is kinda stupid."_

_"I have stuff to do this weekend," Santana said haughtily. "I'm sticking with the original plan."_

_Schue turned to Puck lastly. Did he seriously think he'd support the whole thing? Even though he wasn't talking to her, Rachel was his girl, __and he'll be damned if he let them hurt her. "If it were Rachel trying to snatch someone else's solo, you wouldn't even think it twice before giving her a talk about morals and sportsmanship and shit."_

_Schue didn't do a very good job hiding his rising blush._

Present

The heavy drapes opened and the crowd stared fixedly at the five members of New Directions on stage. The Latina was behind the piano; five feet away, the boy with the weird haircut was sitting on a stool in the middle of the stage with a guitar on his hands, and the one who sang the male lead on that other song with the funny outfits was twirling his drumsticks behind his drum set. In front of them and facing the crowd, the girl with the bright smile and the boy with the perfect complexion stood next to one another. Everything was silence and then the piano intro started.

_Something has changed within me, _Rachel sang as she moved lightly around the stage.  
_Something is not the same _  
_I'm through with playing by the rules _  
_Of someone else's game _

**Too late for second-guessing, **Kurt mirrored her movements on the opposite side of the stage.  
**Too late to go back to sleep **  
**It's time to trust my instincts **  
**Close my eyes…and leap! **

They came together to their original spot to sing the chorus to one another.

_**It's time to try **_  
_**Defying gravity **_  
_**I think I'll try **_  
_**Defying gravity **_  
_**Kiss me goodbye **_  
_**I am defying gravity **_  
_**And you won't bring me down!**_

Finn started the drum solo and the song took an up-beat tempo care of Santana as Rachel leaped lightly around the stage and leaned ever so slightly when she sang to the crowd and Kurt moved around the piano.

_I'm through accepting limits _  
_'cause someone says they're so _  
**Some things I cannot change **  
**But till I try, I'll never know!**  
_Too long I've been afraid of _  
**Losing love I guess I've lost **

They circled around each other as their voices meshed perfectly.

_**Well, if that's love **_  
_**It comes at much too high a cost!**_

Puck joined Finn and Santana with his guitar for the last two choruses.

_**I'd sooner buy **_  
_**Defying gravity **_  
_**Kiss me goodbye **_  
_**I'm defying gravity **_  
_**I think I'll try **_  
_**Defying gravity **_  
_**And you won't bring me down! **_

_**I'd sooner buy **_  
_**Defying gravity **_  
_**Kiss me goodbye **_  
_**I'm defying gravity **_  
_**I think I'll try **_  
_**Defying gravity **_  
_**And you won't bring me down! **_  
_**Bring me down! **_  
_Ohh ohhh ohhhh!_

(They got a standing O, thank you very much.)

"Hey dude," Finn said with a smile as he bounced towards Puck. "Why didn't you change before coming here?" he asked amiably, looking around the lobby where the members of the competing Glee Clubs where anxiously waiting for the finalists to be announced.

Puck's left eye twitched as he glared straight ahead and Finn followed his gaze. Rachel stood in front of the notice board, waiting for the official list just like she had the day before, still wearing her phenomenally short dress and with the male lead of Vocal Adrenaline standing next to her.

"Oh," Finn shook his head. Puck didn't really have anything to worry about, though. Finn knew Rachel was decent; she'd never cheat or anything, especially not with the competition. "I think Matt and Mike are making up," he said trying to change the subject (is it really a conversation when the other guy hasn't even looked at you?). "I went to the bar to get a Gatorade and I saw them crying and hugging by the vending machine."

A smile tugged Puck's lips. M&M, back in good terms. Good for them.

(He hoped Finn didn't see the hint of a smile, though. You can't really pull of the sulking gloom if you're smiling and shit.)

(Finn _totally _saw the smile.)

_Seven days ago_

_Last two weeks? Heaven. Why? Because he, Noah _no-middle-name-because-he-said-so_ Puckerman got to have Rachel Berry sit on his lap almost constantly._

_He was one lucky son of a bitch and yes, you should be __jealous._

_It was fucking perfect. Really. If he had an __extensive and varied vocabulary, he'd probably be able to elaborate further, but the sentiment was the same. Perfect. Period._

_And it wasn't just the sitting in his lap. It was her eyes, glaring at whatever girl who _dared _look at him a second longer than was necessary, her hands holding his, her thumb trailing the line of his jaw and caressing that mole he had behind his ear, her voice, her beautiful voice, singing, talking, sighing, humming, moaning, her smile, her everything. Puck was so disgustingly happy he was pretty sure he was responsible for the latest return of Quinn's nausea (despite the doctor blaming it on the baby kicking close to her stomach)._

_"Mr. Schue, before we start, I've been working on something I'd like to show you," Finn said taking place in the middle of the choir room, having already handed the music sheets to the band._

_"Uh, sure Finn," Schue shrugged,__ taking a seat. "But remember, we still have to practice."_

_Finn just smiled and nodded. As the band started playing he came to stand directly in front of Puck, who was too busy to notice, playing with one of Rachel's chestnut locks._

Oooh you make me live  
Whatever this world can give to me  
It's you, you're all I see  
Oooh, you make me live now honey  
Oooh, you make me live

_Startled, because why the _fuck _was Finn singing a song about friendship while staring at him with a huge dorky grin in his face? Puck gently pushed Rachel off his lap, guessing he was singing to her and since it wasn't a love song, Puck didn't feel the urge to bust his skull._

You're the best friend  
that I ever had

_But Finn was not looking at Rachel, he kept his eyes fixed on Puck and he could not for the life of him look away. What the hell was his problem?_

I've been with you such a long time  
You're my sunshine  
And I want you to know  
That my feelings are true  
I really love you  
You're my best friend  
Oooh, you make me live

_"Hudson, what the fuck?" Puck shot up from his seat, his breath hard and heavy like he'd just run laps. _

_"This is for you man!" Finn grinned._

_"Are you __out of your mind?" Puck stumbled to the door. He couldn't believe it. Okay, so Puck had screwed up and his picture figured under the word 'fuck up' on the dictionary, but he wasn't singing songs to Finn about knocking up his girl. Why did he have to sing about them being friends when they clearly weren't? "What's your _problem_?"_

_Everybody jumped with the force he slammed the door._

_"I thought we'd work things out--" Finn said lowly._

_Rachel __raced after Puck. "He's just-- he's confused," she assured him. "Give him time," she pleaded before she disappeared into the hallway._

_They remained silent as they morbidly paid attention word by word to the fight going on at the end of the hall._

Present

Rachel hadn't even bothered to change before she ran to the lobby. That would only mean a waste of time, time she'd rather use standing in front of the notice board picturing New Direction's name at the top of the official list of finalists. Their performance had been spot on and unlike the day before, there was nothing standing between them and glory.

That is, except the annoying little fellow standing beside her (and by little she meant unimportant and emotionally immature; although compared to her boyfriend Jesse St. James was the definition of _little_), smirking like he knew things and whispering completely inappropriate comments like 'You're not gonna make it out of sheer will, you know? It takes talent' or 'Nice thinking by the way; it's obvious your teammates can't dance, figures to have them sit through a whole number' and 'Your high F isn't really _that _high'.

But Rachel remained regal and composed. Only a clearly inferior and insecure performer would resort to such accusations in order to upset her. They had this competition. They would not buckle under the tyranny of Vocal Adrenaline.

A few minutes before two, only few minutes before their _destiny_ was disclosed, Vocal Adrenaline's male lead broke into a sweat (not that you'd notice though. He was an actor, he was trained to suppress such bodily fluids), growing nervous.

"There is one way you'd make to the final though," he admitted with a carefree shrug. When Rachel warily glanced at him sideways, his smirk turned smug and he raked his eyes up and down her, undressing her with his eyes. "Two-thirds of the judges are males, after all," he grinned, feeling remarkably accomplished as he watched her gape and turn pale. "But you'd better hurry up; you're running out of time."

"You'd better shut the fuck up," Puck stepped between him and Rachel, his darkest scowl set firmly on his eyes. "I find you around her again, I'll fucking kill you."

"Noah," Rachel held his hand and pulled him to the side. "He's not worth the oxygen," she lashed, staring directly at Jesse.

The judge chose that moment to appear at the lobby to announce the finalists. The people around the notice board stepped out of the way and let him through. When he'd reached his destination, he smiled broadly and nodded at Rachel and Puck before he turned away, leaving the official list firmly pinned to the board.

New Directions came first this time.

(Vocal Adrenaline was third. Suck it.)

If there is one thing their victory that afternoon did, it was to keep them as bubbly and excited about performing the following day as if they had downed copious amounts of Vitamin D (Ms. Pillsbury actually insisted on searching their rooms to find any telling evidence). But it was all healthy motivation. They went over the number five times without music, three more times a cappella, another three with the band (just to be sure) and two more wearing the costumes. By the time they left the private lounge that had been assigned to them for the purposes of rehearsing, it was way past dinner time and Mr. Schue gave them free reign to do whatever they wanted within the confines of their rooms (as long as they were safe and everyone was okay with it, just to be clear) and even told them that they could order some room service (take that, Figgins).

So, they ended up on Mercedes' room (the furthest one from Schue and Ms. P), having pizza and ice cream (Rachel didn't even complain about the inevitable damage the dairy would do to their collective vocal chords) and jamming. It was the most fun they'd all had together since the mattress commercial. Matt and Mike were best buds again, Kurt was doing Mercedes' nails and shouting instructions to Brittany and Santana about the proper way to do a French braid on Tina's hair, Artie apologized to Mike for rolling over his foot earlier (it didn't matter that he gritted it out. An apology was an apology). Mike offered chocolate sauce for Tina's ice cream and she accepted it with a small smile. Nearing the end of the night, Mercedes and Matt had disappeared into the hallway to have a word and if the way they were looking at each other was any indication, they were making up. Finn played drums with the empty ice cream containers as Puck played the guitar and Mike had a dance off with Kurt, with Artie playing a shockingly unbiased judge. Quinn had convinced Brittany to give her a foot rub and was pleasantly observing the madness that was Kurt pop'n locking. And Rachel, Santana and Tina raided Mercedes' brush collection and set up to sing in front of the mirror.

By midnight, Rachel stepped up to her role as captain and insisted they needed to rest before morning came. They quietly left Kurt alone in the room (he had informed Rachel previously that his issues with Mercedes were as good as solved and that if she wanted, she could have her room back. Rachel just grinned and politely declined) and spotted the sock hanging from Matt's room doorknob, meaning Artie was going to have to bunk with Kurt for the night.

All that time, Puck was wondering if Rachel knew anything about eye-sexing. He was pretty sure she didn't. And he hadn't had enough time to corrupt her yet so she definitely picked that up from someone else. Or maybe she was a natural? Whatever. Case in point, since they were announced as finalists – scratch that, since Puck promised to beat the ever-loving shit out of the Vocal Adrenaline douche - Rachel had been like staring at him with _this _look, biting her lip and suggestively swinging her hips when she walked in front of him, invading his personal space in the most innocent of ways, like 'Oops, I bumped into you and my hand _accidentally_ ended up on your lower back; for _support_, you know' and 'Why yes, that _is _my foot under the table curling my toes around your calf. Would you like some salad?'. And when she was eating ice cream, the things she did to that spoon? Puck had to excuse himself and stayed ten whole minutes on the bathroom splashing cold water on his face and willing the mental picture away (he failed miserably).

Finn noticed, and if Finn noticed then _surely _everyone else had, too. "Dude, is Rachel okay? Why is she doing that with the spoon?"

"I don't have a fucking idea," Puck growled, looking away.

"It's like she's pretending it's _not _a spoon..." he stopped talking when Puck slugged him in the shoulder, which didn't hurt at all since Finn was a giant and all.

(Puck ignored the fact that he hadn't done that since before Babygate.)

(Finn didn't.)

But what was it that made Puck so sure the body snatchers had shown up and taken over his girlfriend? Well, because she was practically stripping in front of him.

Like, for real. They'd walked to their bedroom, with her casting glances over her shoulder at him, something that drove him absolutely crazy. He was busy raking his brain trying to remember if she had drank any alcohol that day which could be responsible for her current behavior because the alternative was that she was doing this on purpose and that shit just wasn't kosher. And then, the second he closed the door, she was asking him if she could use the shower first, kicking off her flats and unbuttoning her shirt, looking at him behind heavy lids and sweeping the tip of her tongue over her lips. When he saw an inch of her lacy bra, Puck tripped over his own feet in his dash for the bathroom, mumbling something about being his turn and turning the cold water on.

What was going on? Seriously, what happened with the not talking agreement? And yeah, sex wasn't talking (dirty talk did not count) but he wasn't gonna tap that when they weren't, you know, _talking_. It didn't feel right.

(Damn. The shower wasn't cold enough.)

_Fourteen days ago_

_Puck was pretty damn thrilled__ with himself right now. He'd woken up that day simply knowing it was gonna be great; now it wasn't even nine AM and he had already been proven right. Slushies and the "talk"? Guaranteed turn-on._

_Plus__ Rachel had made it her personal mission to prove to him just how much she'd loved his speech – kissing him like they weren't sitting openly on the bleachers, groping and touching and practically _leaping_ on second base, entertaining the track team, who'd forgotten all about running laps and were staring at the couple sucking face. Rachel only stopped actually kissing him to whisper 'I do, too' over and over, smiling and giggling into his lips._

_(She blushed furiously when Coach Tanaka yelled at them from the track and gave them detention for skipping class and overly inappropriate public display__s of affection. Puck just smirked and dragged her to the auditorium to continue.)_

Present

Quinn had read in _What to Expect When You're Expecting_ that in the 8th month of gestation, it was perfectly normal for the woman to sleep no more than two hours in a row each night. They said it was nature's wisdom or something like that, that her body was preparing itself physically, chemically and psychologically for when the baby came because the new little person's sleeping habits would be undoubtedly uncomfortable for the new mom. Once out of the womb, the baby would sleep no longer that two hours, eat, defecate, be awake for two hours, and back to nap time. By being timely woken up every two hours or so every night, Quinn was being prepared for the troubled lifestyle nursing and motherhood came with.

(Her body wouldn't listen to reason when she reminded herself that no, she wasn't going to be doing any nursing and that the only act of motherhood she'd be participating in would be signing the adoption papers.)

So here she was, tightly wrapped in the tent the people in the maternity stores called a robe, waiting on the snack bar way past three AM for her order. She could have just called for room service, but she'd learned that walking was actually quite soothing for the baby, much more than laying on her back (she felt suffocated), or on either of her sides (the baby felt suffocated and demonstrated so by kicking her up her lungs from the inside), or sitting (all those breathing exercises she'd started doing daily for two weeks to push the baby away from her previous position close to her stomach and diaphragm had caused said baby to stay rather low, which meant sitting for prolonged time was rather uncomfortable).

But all in all (and despite the constant bitching, because seriously, she was loaded on hormones and uncomfortable all the time, and could you _blame _her?), Quinn admitted that it wasn't nearly as bad as some other women she unfortunately got to witness at her OB's office. Like the lady who had gained like forty pounds and was only 25 weeks along. And the other lady who was having twins and had nausea the entire pregnancy (those hormones were a bitch) and to top it off, the babies weren't nearly as big as they should have been and she had high blood pressure or something so they needed to rush her to an emergency c-section, barely ending her 29th week. Considering Quinn could still sing and dance, she was pretty much the envy of Dr. Chi's practice.

And also everybody complained about Braxton-Hicks, stretch marks and nipple ache, when the only thing Quinn really, really hated was the constant test on her bladder control. Seriously, if they were about to give awards to the best pregnancy ever (not minding the circumstances, of course; she was still having a child out of wedlock which was fathered by her best friend's boyfriend, there was no way getting around that), Quinn was sure she'd win it.

"Hi, Quinn."

Her body mass didn't allow her to jump anymore when she was startled, but she was no less surprised when she turned around to see Finn. He approached her sheepishly, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his ridiculous Star Wars robe (which she knew he loved because his mom had told him his dad had been a Star Wars fan), giving her his trademark lopsided smile.

"Finn." Quinn instinctively rubbed her belly. "What are you doing up so late?"

He shrugged and leaned on the bar next to her. "I couldn't sleep knowing Matt and Mercedes are doing the nasty two rooms away from mine," he confessed. "It kind of freaks me out. Like walking in on your parents, only I never did but I once saw two dogs going at it in my neighbor's front yard. You know what I'm saying?"

Why it was that she could follow Finn Hudson's unique train of thought, Quinn had never known and more importantly, she didn't want to. That's what she had loved most about their relationship, knowing that she understood what Finn was trying to say when most people couldn't.

"How about you?"

"Uh, just a little hungry I guess..."

The waiter came to a stop in front of them and stared pointedly at Finn until he ordered. After scrutinizing the menu, he just smiled and told the guy that'd he'd have the same Quinn was having, whatever that was.

Finn grinned widely when two bowls of tomato soup and two grilled cheese sandwiches were placed in front of him and Quinn. They didn't talk much and mostly just concentrated on wiping off their plates, occasionally moaning as their taste buds came in contact with the delicious food. After they'd had their fill (and instructed the waiter to charge the bill to the McKinley High account), they left together, making small comments about how excited they were about the finals and how Finn hoped Matt and Mercedes had at least stop making so much noise by now.

And before Quinn closed the door to her room, Finn kissed her on the cheek.

(She lay awake staring at the ceiling for an hour before she finally fell asleep.)

There were few things in life that actually, _legitimately_, annoyed Rachel. She liked to believe this was because she had an incredibly patient nature and an open mind that allowed her to see beyond the little irritating habits most people found annoying. Instead of becoming upset, she would simply observe, see the whole picture and reserve judgment in an omniscient and non-judgmental manner. That way, she respected others, and she fervently believed that life was not worth living if you couldn't be civil enough to do so.

But yeah, she was still got annoyed sometimes. Usually it was music-related; more specifically, the little things that made her want to pull her hair out and cry in frustration revolved around her sixteen years on stage being unreasonably questioned by people less qualified than her _by far_ and whatever interference that might come up between herself and stardom.

However, she had never experienced this kind of frustration and she was somewhat surprised that she was. After all, the final round of Regionals was only a few hours away and while she wasn't the lead in the song they would be performing, Rachel would never consciously do something that could interfere with the recommended eight hours of sleep she required, hence hampering her performance, no matter how secondary.

Alright. _That_ wasn't exactly true.

It wasn't her fault. It's just that she started thinking how things between her and Noah were so complicated when really, they didn't have to be. She was over the fight. Completely. And she understood the reasons behind Noah's seemingly crass response to Finn's olive branch completely, which Rachel was very proud of since that showed their relationship continued to strengthen even though they hadn't had a single fight-free discussion lately. He wasn't emotionally crippled, he was just having a hard time coping. He wasn't doing it on purpose, and if there was one thing she had noticed in the past few days, it was certainly how he hadn't been rejecting Finn's more subtle advances. And that was progress.

But really, why should she be at odds with him when they both agreed that they were inevitably working things through? She wasn't mad at him for calling her solo-snatching Nazi, Rachel understood he'd only said that because he'd been hurt at the moment and she knew he was sorry, even if he hadn't said the words (but she would mention to his mother that he needed to reconnect to his Jewish roots. That insult was not one to be trifled with).

And yes, if she was honest with herself (and Rachel was nothing but) she admitted her sudden and desperate resolution to get back _together_-together with Noah had something to do with his display of testosterone-induced bravado earlier that day when he'd told off Jesse something-or-other. As an independent, free-thinking woman, Rachel frowned upon such behavior and she absolutely despised violence in whatever form it came. But if anyone said that Noah Puckerman did not look his finest with his green eyes burning as he looked down on whatshisname, the set of his chiseled jaw making him look oh-so-perfect, and his arms crossed over his chest, his lovely muscles flexing and just inspiring confidence (and _other things_)…well, they would be horrible liars. Noah Puckerman was hers and Rachel would rather die than go on another day without staking her claim.

That's why she'd set up to seduce him. Noah was very physical, and they were past that point in their relationship where they were awkward around each other as they explored each other physically (truth be told, Rachel believed they'd skipped that point altogether. Even when they were together for the first time, Noah could not keep his hands off her, even during non-make-out time). It was nothing if not rational to think he'd respond to her advances and take them for what they were: a show of her regret, forgiveness and willingness to move on.

So why was Rachel tossing and turning in her bed, _alone_? Because Noah had set up to ignore her since he walked out the shower. He didn't look at her even once as she made a show of undressing before she stepped into the bathroom and instead crawled into bed with his iPod blaring and his eyes firmly shut. If that wasn't a blow straight to her self-esteem, she didn't know what was.

And frankly, she was tired! Hadn't she been clear enough? Had she read him so wrongly that she took his discomfort for encouragement? Did he not _want_ her anymore?

Rachel refused to relinquish another second of her precious rest to the matter. She was solving it, and she was solving it _now_.

In one fluid movement, she jumped off her bed, her eyes boring into his nape, and crawled under the covers with him, yanking off his ear plugs.

"I am not leaving this bed until you talk to me, Puckerman," she informed him, her lips dangerously close to the mole behind his ear that she _knew_ was one of his erogenous zones.

With a sharp intake of breath, Puck turned around to face her and glared. "You're the one who should be talking! I have _no idea_ what's the problem now," he retorted.

Rachel gasped. "You've been ignoring me all night!"

"No, I haven't," Puck shook his head, confusion rising. "_You're_ the one that's been acting weird all fucking night!"

"That's a preposterous notion," she retorted slipping her hand under the pillow to prop her head a little higher.

She would have laughed at the absolutely comical face he made as he frantically pointed to the bathroom. "You started stripping in front of me! That was just—_that was mean_!!!"

"Well, _I'm sorry_," she huffed. "I thought you'd enjoy it."

"Another time, definitely," he admitted. "That was fuckin' hot, babe."

Rachel shut her eyes and counted to ten. She still wasn't used to his personality shifts. "Then I don't understand what's the problem," she said calmly. "I want everything to be okay again, don't you?"

"Well, yeah," Puck propped up on his elbow and leaned into her. "Is that what you were trying to tell me?" She nodded, pouting a little, and Puck grinned. "Why didn't you just say so?"

She shrugged ever so slightly and snuggled closer to him. "Because."

His hand found her waist and pulled her flush to his chest, transforming week-old longing and frustration into the most powerful kiss they had even shared. Sighing into him, Rachel tangled her feet with his and cursed (well, more like "strongly told off") that rational part of her mind that had no problem pointing out that it was near three AM and that kissing Noah wasn't exactly recommended when sleep was necessary.

Puck leisurely ended the kiss, trailing up to her forehead and planting one last kiss there before closing his eyes and rejoicing as the soothing effect she had on him settled in. "Go to sleep, Rach. We got a lot of dancing to do tomorrow."

New Directions stood together in three lines on the center of the stage, hands clasped behind their backs and their heads down. The guys were all wearing blue jeans and plain white tees and the girls had on belted denim dresses with thin straps and three white buttons on the bosom. Mercedes was a few steps ahead of them, near the edge of the stage. The lights focused on her primarily and after taking a deep breath, she started singing.

_Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time  
I feel alive ah ah aaah_

_And the world it's turning inside out_

_I'm floating around in ecstasy  
So don't stop me now, don't stop me_

The rest chorused behind her as they raised their heads in unison.

('Cause I'm having a good time, having a good time!)

Finn leaped from his spot next to Brittany and paraded cockily.

**I'm a shooting star leaping through the skies  
Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity  
I'm a racing car passing by like Lady Godiva  
I'm gonna go, go, go  
There's no stopping me!**

**I'm burning through the skies Yeah!  
Two hundred degrees  
That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit  
I'm trav'ling at the speed of light  
I wanna make a supersonic man of you** (supersonic man out of you!)

(Don't stop me now!)

Mercedes joined him and they sang as he held her hand and twirled her around.

_I'm having such a good time  
I'm having a ball_

(Don't stop me now!)

_**If you wanna have a good time just give me a call!**_  
_Don't stop me now_ ('Cause I'm having a good time!)  
_Don't stop me now_ (Yes I'm having a good time!)  
_I don't want to stop at all!_

Artie broke off from the intricate group choreography and did a wheelie, replacing Finn and Mercedes as the center of the crowd's attention.

I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars  
On a collision course  
I am a satellite, I'm out of control  
I am a sex machine ready to reload  
Like an atom bomb about to  
Oh oh oh oh oh explode (Explode!)

I'm burning through the skies, yeah!  
Two hundred degrees  
That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit  
I'm trav'ling at the speed of light  
I wanna make a supersonic woman out of you.

The 'down, up, clap, clap, clap and swing' that had taken Finn so many hours and rehearsals to get took place at that moment, right before the girls leaped away and the boys took the centre.

Don't stop me, don't stop, me don't stop me  
**Hey hey hey!**  
Don't stop me don't stop me  
Ooh ooh ooh (I like it)   
Don't stop me _(have a good time, good time) _  
Don't stop me, don't stop me  
Ooh

Alright  
Don't stop me now **('Cause I'm having a good time) **  
Don't stop me now (Yes I'm having a good time)   
I don't wanna stop at all

_La la la la laaaa  
La la la la  
La la laa laa laa laaa  
La la laa la la la la la laaa hey!!_

Victory was indeed the greatest feeling in the World. They drove out of Columbus as Regional champions, a massive golden trophy with them and a secured place at Nationals. Vocal Adrenaline was devastated and while the other two teams they competed against that day were unhappy to have lost, they found solace knowing at least this time some other school would get the chance to go to Nationals. New Directions had achieved their goal.

Mr. Schuester was ecstatic. He joined his students as they sang on the bus and hugged Ms. Pillsbury every now and then (much to her discomfort, he hadn't sanitized his hands once since he got on the bus) with this humongous grin curving his lips, the same grin that lit the face of every member of New Directions, unable to contain the absolute happiness they were experiencing. The drive back home was heading to be completely different than the one going to Columbus. No one was sulking or crying, it wasn't awkward at all for anybody.

Buddy, their bus driver, was slightly annoyed though. Not because of the singing; hello, these kids were regional champions of a singing competition, _of course_ they had pretty good pipes. And hearing them belt out pop songs and the occasional soft rock oldie was infinitely better than having an on going soundtrack composed solely by depressive crying all drive long. What bothered him, really, was that they ignored him every time he reminded them they were supposed to remain seated instead of dancing around the aisle. He took his job very seriously, and from the moment the engine started roaring taking these kids safely from point A to B was his responsibility.

He was actually barking at the tall Asian kid to _sit down_, staring at him from the rearview mirror when the Range Rover passed him. Under other circumstances, Buddy would have seen the large vehicle speed past him (recklessly, he might add. It's never safe to pass a school bus on a country road, _everybody_ with a driver's license should know that), but given that a very jolly form of absolute chaos was currently unfolding inside the bus, the happenings of the world outside were clearly (and admittedly neglectfully) on the back seat of his mind.

Had it not been so, he would have acted on time, instead of just reacting when the truck coming in the other direction made a full impact on the Range Rover less than one car distance from the bus.

It only took a few seconds. The sound of tires angrily slipping on the pavement, lights flashing from the three vehicles, the unmistakable cries to watch out that came too late, the collective shriek of terrified anticipation. And then, the crash.

After that? Silence.

_Fourteen days ago_

_If someone had told Rachel mere months ago that one day she would be thrilled to walk down the halls of McKinley High holding hands with Noah Puckerman__, she would have promptly recommended psychological treatment. And if that hypothetical someone also happened to inform her that she'd find a slushie to be the most romantic drink ever created, Rachel was sure she would have become violent. _

_But that's not how Rachel felt anymore. She felt warm and cherished and happy. She liked the way her stomach fluttered when Noah hid his smile with a smirk just for her to know, how his hand held hers gently, like she was too precious to touch, but firmly, like he would be damned if he let go. She found that heartache wasn't necessarily a part of caring about someone, that sometimes it was okay to want someone too much, as long as you're being wanted by that someone just as fervently. She didn't mind her heart skipping beats when he looked at her because her heart was Noah's now, and Rachel knew he wouldn't hurt it._

_He led her to the bleachers, to the same spot where they had their first completely honest talk, where she had walked out on him to continue pining over Finn and he had been far too mired in his own drama to convince her not to. Rachel didn't like that place. It made her uneasy, sad even. But she guessed her life from now on wouldn't be sad anymore, because she wasn't alone._

_Noah didn't sit next to her; he just stood in front of her, his hands deep in his pockets, his eyes avoiding her. "Okay, so," he sighed. "I'm like the biggest jerk around, right? I__'m an asshole who's done shit I'm not really proud of and that includes knocking up my best friend's girl." At this, he glanced up and saw her eyes encouraging him to go on. "I put you through a lot of crap and humiliated you since fucking ever. No one deserves that. _You_ didn't deserve that. And I know you forgave me and all, but I just want you to know that if you let me, I'm gonna do everything and anything to prove to you how sorry I am and how much you mean to me. __Because you do. I--" __He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to be with you and I think I'm falling for you, like, for real," he confessed staring back at the chocolate pools in front of him. "So, that's that," he gulped, anxiously waiting for a reaction. _

_With the faintest hint of a smile, Rachel pulled him down to the bench, the slu__shies left forgotten on the seat, and kissed him deeply. _

**Any thoughts? You know I love those long reviews you send me! (and don't unleash the hate! I know I just delivered a major cliffhanger, but I just couldn't help myself!)**

**So I want to give a special thanks to Lori, my new super smart beta. She really made this chapter a whole lot better.**

**Okay, so you should know there's only two more chapters left for this story. I really love writing it, but I had it planned like this from the beggining and we are coming to it's end. The plot bunny keeps popping in though, so I'll keep writing and I'll give Some Girls the attention it deserves.**


	14. Ever gets easier

Chapter fourteen: Ever gets easier

_"I'm here- __oh, fuck__-"_

_"Is the baby okay? Are you?"_

_"Daddy! Dad!"_

_"My face is ruined!"_

"_Where's Mike?"_

"_I think we should expect assault charges to be filed against me."_

_"Babygirl! Quinnie!"_

_"Everything's gonna be fine. You'll see."_

Ooo

"I can't believe your dads are paying me to clean their pool while I'm unclogging their daughter's pipes."

"I can't believe you don't have a brain-to-mouth filter. Because seriously Noah, that's decidedly not the right thing to say after I just let you-"

"Unclog your pipes?" he waggled his brows suggestively.

"-make love to me in the pool! What is wrong with you?"

Puck chuckled, pressing her further into the wall of the pool and shutting her up with a searing kiss. Rachel sighed into him, the corners of her lips tugging up.

"What?" he asked in between kisses, grinning.

"Nothing," Rachel shrugged carelessly, attempting to sound disinterested but ruining her otherwise stellar performance by tightening her legs around his waist. "I just really, really like you," she bit her lower lip coyly.

See that right there? That's why Puck never gets to start cleaning up the Berry pool, let alone finish it. And he was totally fine with that.

The sun scalding his (SPF-protected, care of Berry) back, he trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses across her jaw line and down her neck, settling on her collarbone, biting hard enough to make her gasp and then soothing the area with his tongue. He was always careful not to mark her because, A) Rachel didn't like it, B) Puck wasn't exactly into it, and C) he didn't really need it. She was his girl, he was her bitch and everybody knew and respected that. Puck didn't need to mess with her (perfect, velvety soft, gorgeous) skin to make it clear she was fucking off limits.

He was paying due homage to her breasts when Rachel's Blackberry (Puck laughed so hard the first time he realized that Berry had a 'Berry) started buzzing and singing the chorus of Beyoncé's _A Woman Like Me_, right where it was resting next to Puck's phone on the deck. Typically, Kurt had picked out the ringtone for himself and right now, it looked like Beyoncé really, really wanted to get a hold of Rachel.

"Don't get that," Puck grumbled.

"Wasn't planning to," Rachel said breathlessly as she arched under his ministrations.

He sighed contentedly when the song finally stopped, his hand trailing further down her back and cupping the firm globes of her behind. Less than a minute later, Kurt called again.

"Ignore it," Rachel panted in his ear, tugging on his nipple ring between her fingers and loosening one leg's tight lock around his waist and caressing the back of his thigh with her calf.

Sure enough, the annoying buzzing stopped.

For two whole minutes this time.

"Fuck my life," Puck gritted out, reaching for the towel to dry off his hand and then grabbing the phone. "Dude, can you not take a hint?" he snarked angrily. "We're fucking busy," _or should that be busy fucking?_ "Stop calling or so help me, I will fucking light your eyebrows on fire!"

He clicked the end button and tossed the phone back to the fluffy towel.

"I'm ridiculously turned on by that display of testosterone," Rachel admitted, caressing his pecs.

Oh, yeah.

Fuck Kurt.

He had to make love to his girl right now.

Ooo

Two hours later (and one hour after they were actually supposed to arrive) Puck and Rachel walked, hand in hand, into the back yard of Ms Pillsbury's white-picket-fenced house in the suburbs. The school year had ended two weeks ago and they were having an unofficial Glee BBQ, complete with burgers, hot dogs, Matt's mom's mac and cheese and, for some reason, Ms. P's homemade gumdrops.

"Well, if it isn't Puckelberry," Kurt huffed, feigning exasperation (he did a good job at it too). "How gracious of you to keep your hands off each other enough to actually make it. Should we expect a mad dash to the nearest room with a lock in how long, approximately? To hold up the cake, you know," he said fighting back the smile and, like the rest of the gleeks and Mr. Schue, clearly enjoying the embarrassment of the couple (only Rachel's, really, since Puck was extraordinarily smug over the fact that his sex life with his hot girlfriend? Fucking epic).

"You mean like you and Tom did the other day at Jake's?" Puck retorted darkly, smirking.

Now all the amused eyes turned to Kurt's heated cheeks. "You noticed that?"

Puck rolled his eyes. "Dude, you're like the most obvious guy ever. And Tom? He likes to fucking _share_," he shuddered at the last word and everyone cracked up laughing.

Everyone but Kurt actually. He excused himself and mumbled under his breath something about needing to call his boyfriend and establish some privacy ground rules.

Ms Pillsbury didn't have a pool. She'd explained to them quite lengthily how laying immersed in water contaminated by one another's filth was definitely not an appealing scenario.

But the summer had started and it was hot, so while Mr. Schue struggled with the grill (and struggling he was, it was like George Foreman hated him or something, the grill was murdering every burger) and Ms. P made sure to lock every room in the house that could tempt Puck and Rachel into participating in activities (activities that would undoubtedly defile her house, infect every flat surface and mess up her home's balanced _chi_) the twelve gleeks, glocks and gleerios got down to business. They stripped down to their swimsuits, dug out the hose from the perfectly organized and labeled shack on the side of the house, broke out the water balloons and the 1st annual Glee Water Fight began.

It was established that the couples couldn't be on the same team, so Matt, Puck, Tina, Artie, Brittany and Quinn teamed up against Finn, Mike, Rachel, Mercedes, Kurt and Santana. There wasn't really a purpose to the game except cover their teammate's backs and making everything in their power to _annihilate_ the other team.

Turns out? Artie was a total hose maniac. The dude had no mercy as he blasted the hose around, making the top of Santana's flimsy excuse of a bikini fall open (accidentally the first time, not so much the two other times that followed). Also, Kurt teaming up with Rachel was positively hilarious; they walked around with their backs stuck together, spinning around wide-eyed while aiming at their opponents, often throwing the water balloons way off the mark.

By the time Schue and Ms. P called them for dinner, they were soaked to the bone, throats hurting because of all the screaming and laughing. Santana was perched on Artie's chair insisting he owed her a few serious orgasms for baring her for everyone to see, Tina was smacking Mike repeatedly on the chest for bursting a balloon over her head and ruining her eyeliner, Quinn and Brittany were shoving balloons inside Finn's trunks, Kurt and Mercedes were squealing and begging Matt to stop dousing them with the hose, and Puck had Rachel thrown over his shoulder, claiming his team had won. Taking advantage of her location, Rachel mouthed for Matt to give her the hose, which she then promptly stuck inside the back of her boyfriend's board shorts, the flow of icy water directly to his private parts making him jump and curse.

They were halfway through the meal, talking about absolutely anything and everything when Brittany cocked her head to the side, staring at Mike gently slapping Tina's hand as she tried to steal his mac and cheese.

"Hey," she said slowly, like she'd just realized something very important. "If you two ever got married, your name would be Tina Cohen Chang-Chang."

There was a moment of utter silence at the table as everybody considered that before they burst out laughing.

"Do NOT ever mention that to either of our mothers," Mike shook his head with dread, Tina sitting dead serious next to him. "They like, planned the wedding and all, so please don't encourage them."

"Please," Rachel smirked in a very Puck-ish way (care to venture where she picked that up?). "I'm sure it's not nearly as bad as what Noah and I have to endure."

"They want us to fly to China to have the ceremony," Tina countered.

"Our parents have determined just when and how many children we're going to have, as well as appropriate Hebrew names for them," Rachel informed them stoically.

"And Ma already booked the Rabbi to officiate the ceremony," Puck added blankly. Then he turned to Rachel. "Though if we want Rabbi Herzig, we're gonna have to like, get hitched real soon cause I just saw him the other day and that dude's hearing them angels' harps already. One of these days, he ain't waking up and we'd be stuck with Rabbi Guffman."

"Don't worry," she patted his thigh. "He can hold on for a few more years. He's too afraid of the wrath of your mother not to."

After dinner, they played touch football with even Mr. Schue and Ms. P joining in. It was girls versus boys and the guys weren't at all surprised when Santana and Rachel got down to business by calling for a huddle and going through an NFL-worthy game plan. After months of dating Puck, Rachel had inevitably picked up something about the game and her competitive nature only helped it flourish. The fact that Santana closely resembled an Amazonian raider both in strength and determination helped a lot.

They had come to a tie when the guys decided on a whole new plan of action. After breaking, Puck lifted both Rachel and Quinn off their feet (with little effort at that - Rachel was a midget and Quinn had been crazy on getting her figure back after giving birth), Matt gently tackled Mercedes to the ground, Mr. Schue hugged Ms. P from behind and tickled her, Kurt distracted Brittany by claiming to have seen a bird behind her, and Mike launched himself over Tina, who jumped aside before fussing over him after he landed hard on the ground and squealed like a girl. Santana ran towards Finn who was in possession of the football and, with what could only be described as absolute dread, Finn tossed it to Artie who had inconspicuously wheeled himself to the chairs that served as his team's goal. He smoothly received the pass and with his patented, infuriatingly impassive expression declared that he had scored.

When the sun had officially disappeared into the horizon, Puck and Finn worked with the stacks of wood Ms. Pillsbury had on the side of the house (_symmetrical _piles of wood; they almost felt bad about messing them up) and lit a bonfire, and, at Schue's insistence, the fourteen of them sang a few songs before conversation settled in, them trying to wrap up in words the journey of the last school year.

"I wish we had gone to Nationals," Quinn confessed her head resting on Rachel's shoulder. "I know that the bus crash happened and that I could barely move after my c-section, but we would've totally kicked butt." A sad smile formed in her lips.

_("Do you think it'll ever get easier?" Quinn asked suddenly. "Loving her, I mean. Do you think it'll go away or that we'll eventually forget after we give her up?"_

"_No, of course not." Puck shook his head, his heart clenching in his chest._

_"But it's the right choice, right?"_

_He took so long to answer, Quinn was sure he wouldn't. "We just won Regionals. We're going to Nationals in May," he said. She stared at him quizzically. "That's what we can give her, and it's not enough for her."_

_Her daughter, christened Drizzle Leigh, now lived in Dayton with Nathan and Harmony Dunn, the lovely couple she and Puck had chosen. The only things Quinn has are a picture of a 4-hour-old Drizzle and a scar on her lower belly that would forever remind her that something beautiful came out of her._)

"I know what you mean," Mike blushed under the light of the flames. "I feel kinda guilty for holding you guys back."

"Don't be an idiot," Tina snorted. Then she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

(_Mike had to be rushed to the operating room as soon as the doctors saw him. He suffered severe trauma to the chest caused by him being standing at the moment the bus collided and the doctors was afraid of internal bleeding._

_Hours later, Tina and Matt stood stubbornly next to the double doors of the operating room. Mike's parents were sobbing in one of corner of the waiting room. When Mike's surgery finally ended, they wheeled him to intensive care, with a tube down his throat and a machine helping him breathe in and out. _

_When the doctor returned, he only talked to the Changs. But when Mike's mother started crying and laughing and his dad shook the doctor's hand and looked thoroughly relieved, they all knew that Mike was going to be fine. Still, Tina refused to move from the side of his bed until she saw him wake up from his surgery. She spent all her time with the Changs, who she had just met, in the days while he was still forced to stay in the ICU._)

"I'm actually glad we didn't go," Kurt said. "Can you imagine how disastrous it would have been had I went on stage before my plastic surgery?"

(_Kurt's nose was practically squeezed into his skull in the crash and he started a crusade to get the best plastic surgeon in Ohio to fix it. His dad hadn't been exactly happy to follow him around the state -and the doctors often objected to Kurt's stalkerish ways- but it eventually worked out for the best. Kurt's nose now looked better than it did before the accident_.)

Brittany leaned closer and lifted her finger dangerously close to Kurt's nose. "Can I touch it?"

Kurt merely swatted the finger away.

"I really want to say sorry for my behavior after the crash," Finn piped up. "I don't remember a whole lot of it, but I know I was kind of a douche."

"Dude, you had a concussion," Puck pointed out. "You were puking all over the place and yelling at the docs to make the ringing in your ears stop. Frankly, I was fucking proud when you started swearing like a drunken sailor."

Laughing, Finn gave him the finger but when no one was paying attention, they exchanged a small smile of understanding.

(_After his daughter was taken to the nursery and while Rachel was with Quinn in her room, one of the nurses asked Puck if he wanted to hold her, and it was right then that he fully comprehended that after that night, she was going to be someone else's little girl. And yeah, he likes Nate and Harmony and he's glad they're the ones his daughter is going to end up with, but he's not gonna lie and say he doesn't hate them a little bit. Open adoption or not, they're the ones who get to be her everything. He knew most people were convinced that he had a lifetime membership in the emotionally challenged club. Hell, even Rachel had suggested that he was emotionally crippled. Usually he didn't give a damn what other people (other than Rachel) thought of him. They knew shit about him and fuck them if they thought he gave a damn about them. But now, as he burned the image of his daughter into his memory, making sure he took in everything about her, Puck only wished those fuckers were right._

_Because letting his baby girl go? It was killing him._

_So he spends what it feels like hours holding her and marveling in the miracle that he helped __make__._

_That's when Finn walks in the nursery. On quiet nights, Puck had often wondered how this exact moment would go. Not one of those scenarios has him holding on to her for dear life and Finn leaning over and gently kissing her head, both men crying silently but openly._

_Finn eventually leaves to give Puck some privacy but not before he kisses her again and whispers "Love you, Drizzle" in her ear._)

"I think sitting out Nationals was a good move," Artie voiced his opinion. "We might've been forced to, given Mike's and Quinn's delicate state after Regionals, but we can't overlook the fact that the overall situation gave us somewhat of a mysterious reputation within the show choir circuit. Now everybody knows we're game but no show choir outside the state got to see it firsthand."

"Yeah, everybody's damn psyched to see the team that beat Vocal Adrenaline," Mercedes added, her nose in the air. "When we get to Nationals this year, we're so gonna use that in our favor."

Santana stopped trailing random patterns on Artie's thigh and entwined her fingers with his. "Being on TV totally got you hot, too," she said, flashing him a knowing smirk.

(_Artie and Santana? That happened when no one was looking. Seriously. One day, Artie was moving on from Tina and next thing anyone knew, Santana was doing some hardcore research on the logistics of wheelchair sexing. At first they were convinced Artie was just horny and Santana simply had a fetish, but they pleasantly realized soon enough that there was more to them than just sex._

_Plus, she never admitted it but Santana kinda had the hots for him since the time Artie ran over the toes of several ER personnel when they wouldn't tell them where their injured friends were.)_

"I hated that," Matt shook his head, remembering when they performed and were interviewed on a local talk show. "I'm not made for that kind of scene. Plus, that chick kept feeling me up on air!"

"I would like to say that," Ms P started with a shaky breath. "I wish my irrational fear of physical interaction hadn't been so strong in my teenage years. I see now that what you have accomplished as a group is magical and I deeply regret not ever have been a part of something so special when I was growing up."

Mr. Schue smiled fondly as he watched her grow pink on the cheeks and, oblivious to the twelve pairs of eyes watching closely, he leaned over and kissed her on the lips.

"I'm proud of what you achieved this year," he told them a minute later (after Brittany stage whispered 'They should get a room. There's a whole house right there'). "And not because of the trophies, but because even though you started off shaky at best, you managed to work out your issues with your teammates and yourselves and you've all grown stronger and wiser. Even if we don't even place in a competition ever again, the fact that you guys have each other is so much better than any trophy."

"Rach?" Quinn said turning to her friend. "You've been quiet. Isn't there anything you'd like to say?"

Rachel considered that for a moment.

Puck saw the mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. "Well, as team captain I think you should all know," a pause, and she continued with a grin. "That I'm infinitely glad that that I fabricated a story of child molestation to drive off Sandy Ryerson. Admittedly, Mr. Ryerson is entirely unfit to be around students and my accusations were based on very valid assumptions, but now would be as good a time as any to thank me."

While everybody laughed, Puck leaned down and kissed her on the temple. No one could say his girl wasn't driven.

Oooo

The first night they got back to Lima after everyone was discharged from the hospital (and Mike was able to be moved to a private hospital in Lima for the rest of his recovery), Puck stayed at Rachel's. Her dads didn't make a big deal out of it. They figured he had just said goodbye to his daughter and couldn't possibly have the energy to pull anything remotely sexual on his girlfriend. And really, they were right; all he wanted to do was sleep next to her.

It was midnight when Quinn joined them, slipping off her shoes and climbing under the covers on Rachel's side. It didn't matter, they were all awake either way.

"I miss being pregnant," Quinn confessed into the darkened room. "I feel empty."

Rachel sniffled and Puck didn't think it was total BS that she was the one crying when it was Quinn and him who had given their kid away. She went through a lot with them and if there's anyone who was ever allowed to feel this sorrow and be there holding him, it was Rachel.

That's when he realized he loved her.

He didn't know what was it about that single night made him so sure of his feelings, but as time passed by, they hadn't diminished one bit. It was getting harder and harder not to say the words when they were almost always lingering in his mind. He had to bite his tongue a few times since his automatic response now to most of the things she did was "God, I love you". This one time, she was blowing him and Puck totally lost control of what came out of his mouth and he was pretty sure he'd fucked everything up and said the words. Then again, she was deep throating him (obviously her concentration was on something important) and she didn't act any different afterwards so he guessed that either he didn't actually say it or Rachel didn't hear it.

But he wanted to tell her. No. He _needed _to tell her.

Which is why he spent three whole weeks of the summer orchestrating the perfect date scenarios to confess his love.

(Yeah, it wasn't enough that he was handing her his balls on a silver platter for eternity, apparently his pussiness also required him to be totally cheesy about it too.)

He decided on a classic first. He booked a table on the nicest restaurant in town and took her for a 'hot date', as her dad Hiram called it (Puck would argue that him and Rachel were always hot together since, duh, two good-looking Jews, but whatever, he figured Rachel's dads didn't need to know he took every opportunity to defile their daughter). He had planned on telling her he loved her over dessert, while she was stuffing her mouth full of the flourless chocolate cake he knew she loved. Things were going smoothly until they ordered. Rachel asked for the day's special which the waiter informed them was _coq au vin_, and Puck just couldn't keep stop the word vomit as he told her, with the maître d' _right there_, that he had a perfectly good _coq_she could try later. Now, Rachel might be into dirty talk but that night she made it very clear that there was a time and place for it and that dinner wasn't it. Puck apologized, of course, but even as their date went on just fine, he didn't want Rachel to forever associate him saying he loved her with a dirty joke about a chicken dish.

Next time he tried, he went all outdoorsy. It was a beautiful Sunday and he took her to the lake with a picnic basket he personally packed, which included every kind of berry Puck could get his hands on. He insisted on feeding her as they lay together on a blanket and when she licked berry juice off his lips, he admitted he loved any kind of berry. Then he pulled out his guitar and started strumming the chords of Led Zeppelin's Since I've Been Loving You, with no accompaniment except his knowing smirk, and watched her go all mellow like she always did when he played for her.

Then it started raining.

Seriously, it was like the fucking sky was falling down on them. They hadn't even seen the clouds before the storm broke over them. So, as Puck cursed nature for being such a bitch, they packed up their stuff and darted to the truck parked a few feet away. They were both wet and laughing and they totally had truck sex that day, but Puck didn't tell Rachel what he'd planned to tell her. He probably could have, but he didn't want her to think it was a spur of the moment thing or that he was saying the words just because she had just let him sex her up in the back seat.

That summer, Rachel was part of the community theater's production of Les Mis. She was playing Cosette and had worked on her part with religious fascination. Puck was not only proud of his girl for nailing such an iconic role (her words, not his) and, yes, he couldn't wait till opening night when he'd get to brag about her and show her off more than he already did on a regular basis, but also post-performance Rachel was extremely emotional. He figured her watch the play, sneak up to her dressing room and wait for her there holding a single white rose for her. Then he'd tell her she was fucking awesome and that he loved her.

His plan was going well until he reached the dressing room. He hadn't been counted on the security guards (how does a community theater even have that kind of security?), who not only caught him, but accused him of perving on the female cast members and called the cops when he refused to be escorted out. Long story short, it wasn't his fucking night.

Puck was growing desperate (seriously, what was wrong with him?) and that was his only excuse for doing something that would no doubt revoke his badass membership.

He asked for advice.

They were at Finn's playing Xbox and drinking beer in his basement when Puck broke down. "How the fuck do I tell Rachel I love her?", he asked out of nowhere (while refusing to look anyone in the eye).

Luke's instant reaction was laughing evilly (finally, the Puckerone was showing weakness! BWAHAHAHA!). Jake ignored him after his initial shock (he was with Quinn on the phone and whatever his girlfriend had to say was infinitely more important than Puck's emotional retardedness), and Tom, after congratulating Puck for "finally growing a pair of ovaries", dialed Kurt to tell him the latest news. Artie, Mike and Matt were busy with coming up with a detailed history of Puck's rule as resident BAMF before his pussy started flapping in the wind.

Without pausing his game (and with an entirely dorky grin), Finn was the only one to actually offered something. "Dude, just tell her."

Like he hadn't been fucking trying to begin with.

Ooo

Rachel was perfectly aware that Noah Puckerman had fallen in love with her. No, she hadn't realized this when he said the words right after she gave him what she knew was the best blowjob he'd ever gotten (what can she say? She kept perfecting her art). She heard him, yes, but he obviously wasn't thinking clearly at the time due to the aforementioned blowjob, so she couldn't really trust his word right then. She could've told him that she was leaving him to marry Quinn and she was certain he wouldn't have batted an eyelash.

For all his faults, Noah was everything she ever wanted that she never knew she needed. He made her feel special. Whenever they were together, Rachel felt her heartbeat quicken and her skin tingle, and when he smiled or even when he whispered a dirty joke in her ear, she couldn't help but feel her heart soar and expand in her chest. Mr. Schuester had been right all along; there _was_ a boy who would like everything about her, even the things she herself hated. When Rachel had a diva fit and stormed out of rehearsal when her director considered cutting one of her solos short, Noah told her she looked effing hot when she was pissed (he used the actual word, of course, but she is so not repeating it). Whenever she corrected his grammar or called him on his foul mouth, he would smile, apologize with a "Sorry, babe" and watch his language for a while until he forgot about it and cursed again. Yes, he got irritated with her on occasion, but he was always telling her she needed to relax and the fact that she would get stressed over unimportant things was what irritated him, not her. He called her "crazy" sometimes but he was always there behind her, fully supporting her craziness. Also, he introduced her to his family like she was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him and made it very clear that he was in it for the long haul.

So, given Noah's stellar performance in the role of boyfriend, Rachel had been wondering for a while whether his feelings ran as deep as she suspected. The confirmation, however, came to her entirely unexpectedly.

They were at his house, hanging out in his room, when he remembered he needed to pick up his sister from soccer practice. Since Rachel was too lazy to put her shirt back on, she stayed behind. Her phone had died and she needed to remind Quinn that their double date that evening would have to be pushed back an hour, so she went to Noah's laptop to email her. Curiosity got the best of her, however, and she started snooping around. Rachel had fully expected to find an alarmingly high amount of porn. She _knew_ her boyfriend. She expected him to keep "updated" or something like that and since they were exclusive, she didn't consider watching porn so terrible. Plus, she knew he thought of her during his "self love" moments; he had told her so himself and she was more than happy to provide him with material for his "spank bank".

What she didn't expect was to find a document entitled "Operation: telling Berry I fucking love her". The megawatt grin lighting her face stayed put as she read about his first plan to tell her over dinner at that lovely restaurant he'd taken her a couple of weeks ago, at the picnic by the lake, and at her dressing room after opening night. Under each entry in bold red letters, he had written down what had gone wrong each, with notes like "Check the weather report before", "Don't kill the mood with a dirty joke" and "Don't get arrested for perving".

Seeing how much effort he had put into confessing his feelings and then never getting his act together almost brought her to happy tears. As soon as Noah returned from picking his sister up, Rachel was _thisclose_ to tell him she knew all about his failed attempts and that as long as he felt how he felt, she didn't need him to orchestrate another date.

But looking into his eyes, with her heart beating faster than ever (how was that even possible?), she realized that she just couldn't do that. Noah clearly wanted everything to be perfect the first time he told her he loved her, and she wouldn't take that away from him. Rachel wanted him to say those three words on his own terms.

She couldn't wait to say them back.

Ooo

They were waiting in line behind Jake and Quinn to buy popcorn. Rachel was mentally calculating just what size they should get without chances of ruining their appetite (the four of them were going to dinner afterwards), vaguely registering the conversation between her friends, who were discussing the merits of M&Ms.

"Hey babe?" Next to her, Puck kept his gaze up front, inspecting the several varieties of candy displayed. "I love you."

His heart fucking fluttered as he said the words for the first time ever (and what a pussy thing to think, but at this point, he really wasn't surprised that his badassness had downed a few points in all things Rachel Berry). He also figured the fucking Universe hated him and screwing with his carefully drawn out plans to tell his girl he loved her was it's sick idea of a joke, you know, karma and shit. So he decided against plans. In the words of that black chick from Glee whose name he couldn't remember, Puck was gonna wink it.

Her smile? Fucking worth it.

"I love you too."

Oooo

Post-"I love you" sex?

_Wow._

* * *

_**So! Final chapter.**_

**_The End_**

**_Fin_**

**_NO. MORE._**

**_Just kidding, there's still the epilogue! but yeah, after that, this fic will be officially completed. I had a lot of fn writing it, and had a lot of help from my AWESOME beta Lori with the last couple of chapter, and honestly, running ideas with her was amazing. This was my first glee fic and I love it._**

**thank you all for reading, fav-ing, alerting, reviewing, everything! and, you know, since this IS the last chapter, reviews (long, detailed reviews!) are doubly appreciated.**


	15. Epilogue

**Okay, people. This is officially the end. It has been a pleassure writing this story and your support along the way was really the one thing that kept me going. Every time you read, fav, alert, review this, I feel happy and appreciated. I hope it has been equally enjoyable for you, and that this chapter can in a way wrap it all up nice. **

**Keep an eye on my stuff; Some Girls is going to be focus now, but I'm working in other stories as well, so we'll see.**

**THANK YOU FOR STICKING WITH THIS.**

"I'm going to expose you," he makes a dramatic stop to stress the effect of his words and smirks. "for the fraud that you've become."

"Bring it on, William," she deadpans expertly. "I'm reasonably confident that you will be adding revenge to the long list of things that you are no good at. Right next to being married-"

"Don't," he eyes her darkly.

"-running a high school Glee club," she continues without missing a beat. "And finding a hairstyle that doesn't make you look like a lesbian," she cocks her head to the side, looking mighty triumphant.

"And cut!" Artie calls out. "Great job, Finn, Rachel. That is a wrap, people. Take five, hydrate…Susan!" he hollers, a redhead middle-aged woman jumping from her corner. He pierces his chief stylist with his patented glare through his glasses. "Go curl his hair some more. I want it to look like birds are nesting in it. Rachel, beautiful as always," he acknowledges with a nod and she squeaks slightly. Even after years as a professional, compliments make her feel fuzzy inside.

The set, as usual, is buzzing with life. Ready to move on to the next scene, which wouldn't take place on the set of the deserted high school hallway, the light techs turn off the wide lamps and gather the cables laying around, moving the hardware to the adjacent set , the Principal's office. The second assistant camera meticulously logs the film stock data for that particular scene that was being taken to the lab for processing while two trainees silently fight over who gets to receive the precious log from the 2nd AC's hands and take it to the next set. The props master and his assistants are giving the final touches to the set with the Arts Director hot on their heels, overseeing the aesthetic and textural details of the set.

Not far in the distance Kurt fights Brittany (again) over the outfit she assembled for him.

"Look, I don't care if that man wore white pants after labor day, I will not be immortalized in a film wearing this abomination!" he snaps, his left eye twitching unbecomingly as his hand tugs the maroon sweater vest and the dark orange button up shirt under it.

With a long-suffering glare, Brittany lays a gentle hand on his arm. "Kurt, I haven't slept in two days because of the ironing incident that killed Sue's tracksuits." She squeezes his arm warningly and looks at him with a dangerous gleam in her eye. "You _don't_ want me to get bitchy right now," with one last scrutinizing look at his costume, she smoothes out the hem of his vest and straightens the white tie. "Make up!" she shouts.

"Finish him," she asks sweetly, as Kurt gulps audibly.

With a satisfied, accomplished smile (she only has one more scene to run and then she gets to go home) Rachel takes two unopened bottles of water from the cooler by the buffet table and heads away from the set, past the sound-proofed doors and into the hallway that leads to the dance studio, the recording room and the front office staff areas.

"Hey Rach," Matt calls from the door of the recording room. "Come check this out."

Casting a longing glance to the closed room down the hall she is so eager to reach, she follows her friend into the room, crowding with Matt and the sound editor as listen and fumble with the slides and knobs on the mixing board. Inside the recording booth, with headphones on and eyes closed, Lea Michele, the stunning 20-year-old that plays the role of Rachel, belts out one of her solos.

_But you put on quite a show  
Really had me going  
Now it's time to go  
Curtain's finally closing  
That was quite a show  
Very entertaining  
But it's over now  
Go on and take a bow_

But it's over now

"She's good," Rachel voices what everybody already knows. "But she's dehydrated. She was a bit sharp."

"I don't understand why we can't just run Auto-Tune on them," the sound editor complains for the umpteenth time.

Before Rachel can lay it on him, because how dare he even suggest such a thing?, Matt's darkened scowl stops her. "Dude, when you work with talented people, you don't need that shit."

Rachel leaves the room for her producer's office just as the sound editor reddened and apologized, and opens the office door without knocking.

And walks straight into another one of many, and regular, roof-raising arguments.

"I swear to God Almighty, you are impossible to work with," Quinn grits out, her nostrils flaring dangerously.

"Is this about the film posters?" Rachel whispers to Mike, sitting blank faced, his eyes flashing from Quinn to the producer. "I though they agreed on the last batch they sent in."

"He's being completely moronic," Quinn bitches to Rachel, looming over the desk with her arms crossed. "Did you or did you not hired me to promote this film all the way to box office gold, Oscar-dom and everlasting fame?"

"I did," Puck says emotionless. "But I don't remember saying you could use me as a prop." His eyes dart to Rachel and he grins. "Hey babe."

Rachel crosses the room, kisses him and perches herself on the edge of the desk, handing him the spare bottle of water. "What's the problem?"

"Your husband is a child," Quinn rolls her eyes. "A stubborn, insufferable child. You know, this could generate a whole new level of interest for the film. It's never been done by any other production before. It's hip, it's innovative. It's a_ good_ thing."

"I told you, producers don't do shit like that. We stay behind the cameras and make other people do shit like that," Puck states, bumping fists with Mike.

Quinn pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to stave off the inevitable migraine.

"Would someone mind filling me in? _Now?_" Rachel asks after a moment of silence. "I need to get back to the set."

"She wants us to go to a talk show," Puck growls, staring up at her. "You and me, to talk about the film."

"Oh, Noah! That would be so much fun!" she squeals, jumping on his lap.

"Babe, nobody cares about the producers," he insists. "People don't even know what we do. I'm telling you, it's a bad move."

"I concur," Mike nods solemnly. "They want to see the stars. We should send Finn, Kurt or Tina, or even one of the kids."

"Now, you listen to me and you listen to me carefully," Quinn stares predatorily at Puck and Mike. "I know what I'm doing, okay? I'm a shark. More importantly, I am _your _shark. I wouldn't be sending you to this talk show if I didn't know _for sure _that it's going to work for us."

"I think you should trust her, Noah," Rachel agrees. "This is her job, she wouldn't knowingly risk it or the film."

"You just want the whole fucking country to know my ass belongs to you," Puck snorts. Rachel glares at him with a look that promised weeks and weeks of celibacy if he didn't cut the crap and he gives in.

"Fine," he growls. "But I don't care how tired you are tonight, we are getting naked the moment we get home," he says waggling his brows suggestively.

"Absolutely," she smiles and bounces off his lap. "I have to run one last scene and then I'm off," she leans over and kisses him deeply, Mike snickers and Quinn whispers (loudly) 'Get a room'.

"Bye, babe," he calls as she closes the door behind her. "So when do we have to go to this fucking talk show?"

OOO

_Da da da da duh duh da_

_Duh!_

**This summer…**

"I'd like to take over the Glee Club."

"You want to captain the Titanic too?"

**A group of misfits…**

"Being part of something special makes you special, right?"

"One day you will all work for me."

"No offense Puck, but you're more help when you're not contributing."

**Will band together…**

"We are Glee club, which means we're at the bottom of the high school social strata."

**To sing…**

_A singer in a smoky room_

_The smell of wine and cheap perfume_

_With a smile they can share the night_

_It goes on and on and on and on!_

"HELL TO THE NAW! Look, I'm not down with this background singing nonsense. I'm Beyoncé, I ain't no Kelly Rowland!

**And face evil incarnate…**

"Since when are cheerleaders performers?"

"Your resentment is delicious."

"So, here's the deal. You do with your depressing little group of kids what I did with my wealthy elderly mother. Euthanize it!"

**And competition…**

"They're doing all our numbers. Artie keeps wheeling himself into the wall and I'm pretty sure Jacob Ben-Israel just wet his pants."

**With love…**

"You can kiss me if you want to."

"I want to."

"I just left my wife."

**And friendship…**

_Lean on me, when you're not strong_

_And I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on_

_For, for it won't be long_

_Till I'm gonna need somebody to lean on_

**To make it together.**

_Lean on -call me, call me_

_Call me!_

**gLee**

**June 2024**

As the studio lights go back up and audience cheers and hollers with excitement, clapping away and grinning at the cameras, Akira stands in her brightly lit set , mocha skin glowing and her pearly smile flashing every single one of her teeth to her camera.

"I know," she says with a lopsided, confident smirk (perfected after years and years of acting classes and countless hours in front of her vanity mirror), her eye brow arching suggestively as her audience quieted down. "We've been wowed," the crowd giggles and she shifts her stance. "For those of you who have no idea what the heck you just watched - first, have you living under a rock? And second, how fast can you get your behind outta there and catch up with the whirlwind of_ awesome_ that GLEE is?"

The live audience laughs some more and Akira moves to the living room area of her set. "That was the first trailer to be released on national TV, and y'all know the film lands in the theaters in less than six weeks. What you may not know," her smirk grows wider, "is that GLEE started way back, before being the unbelievable panty-dropping sensation that it's now. But I ain't tellin' you none of this," the audience boos amicably. "'Cause I got two special guests right here with me today who are way more fitted to tell y'all about it. Give it up for the star and the executive producer of GLEE - Rachel Berry and Noah Puckerman!"

The audience goes crazy again, clapping and cheering loudly as Puck and Rachel enter through stage left, holding hands and smiling (or smirking, in Puck's case).

"Oh, my," Akira winks at the camera as she meets her guests. "Are they or are they not two fine pieces of hotness?"

The audience chuckles as she leans to kiss Rachel on both cheeks and shake the hand Puck offers her.

"Ma'am," Puck says doing a fantastic job keeping his cool and hiding the fact that he is two seconds away from wetting his pants.

Akira's eyes open wide and her mouth falls agape. The audience's sudden _Oooh_ tells Noah he already screwed up. "I ain't no ma'am," she playfully fists a hand on her hip and cocks her head to the side. "I'm in my prime!" She lets out a belly laugh to go with the crowd's amusement.

(If he's blushing, he's blaming it on the lights. Badasses don't blush.)

"You'll have to excuse him," Rachel smiles, glancing wickedly at her husband. "He's a little out of his comfort zone. He'd much rather be behind the cameras or tucked away in his office pretending to be on the phone. He's trying to maintain his rep even if the idea of being on national TV has him thoroughly freaked out right now."

"I'll forgive him," Akira nods magnanimously. "But only because I haven't seen a man so completely breathtakingly good-looking in a long time, and frankly, I get a little lonely sometimes." She winks at the camera and leads Rachel (snickering and nudging her husband in the side) and Puck (embarrassed beyond belief and blushing like a twelve-year-old girl) to the couch.

She takes her seat on her armchair, partly facing the camera, while the couple sits next to each other on the deep blue couch. "First of all I'd like to thank you for coming. I bet things must be crazy with barely 2 month till the movie premiere. When did you finished shooting?"

Puck and Rachel share a glance and she decides to take the lead. "About eight weeks ago, right, Noah?"

He nods, his hand holding hers firmly between them. _Fucking _maintain_, Puckerman. Calm the fuck down, talk about the movie and ignore the millions of people that are watching this right now. Don't embarrass yourself!_

"Now, I gotta say, I watched the play when it was on Broadway," Akira continues, masking her amusement over the obviously freaked out gentleman in front of her. "When I heard it was basically autobiographical, I couldn't believe it. I mean, I don't know what kind of school you kids went to but that crazy stuff ain't happened on mine!"

Puck smirks more confidently and, after Rachel squeezes his hand encouragingly, he nods. "All true ma'am. You wouldn't believe the kind of shit that went around the halls of McKinley." His eyes widen noticeably in panic. O_h, fuck. I said shit on national TV._

Akira faces the camera again, looking flabbergasted. "He ma'amed me again. _And _he cursed!" she shakes her head in amusement and the audience titters. "So everything we see in the play and the movie, all that actually happened?" Puck and Rachel nod. "All the drama?"

"The script does not exaggerate one bit," Rachel says, relaxed. "We were in Glee Club, which basically meant we were part of the high school show choir circuit; we went to competitions and basically sang throughout the most part of our high school careers. And yes, there was a sickening rivalry between our Glee Director, Will Schuester, and the cheerleaders' Coach, Sue Sylvester, who tried again and again to disband the club. While we were children, this wasn't a secret and we witnessed every bit of it. In addition, they are numerous romantic subplots since it was high school and we were hormonal teenagers."

"You wrote the play, is that right, Noah? How did you transition from session guitarist to writer? Because it seems like a huge leap. For those of you who don't know," Akira turns to the audience. "Noah is a well-rounded musician and has worked with artists like Billie Joe Armstrong, Gwen Stefani, Zoë Bonham, John Carter Cash and many others."

"The script was born out of pure boredom," he smirks, and the audience chuckles with him. "When Rach first got pregnant, we both took a sabbatical from work and the big city and headed home to Ohio. One night, we were going through our yearbook and I was like, 'dude, Rach, I could sell this'."

"You call your hot wife 'dude'?" Akira gapes.

"Quite frequently," Rachel says in a beat. "It turns him on. If he actually stopped being such a horndog, I'd be worried."

"You do know our parents are watching this, right?" Puck leers. He is pushing his frame closer to hers, oblivious to the cameras, his finger tracing mindless patterns on her forearm.

"My dads walked in on us _twice_, and your mom used to get grape-flavored condoms for you because she knew it's my fav-"

"Okay!" Akira cuts in, desperately masking her mortification with a toothy grin. "So how was the writing process? Hard?"

Sensing he was two seconds away from saying something like 'not as hard as I'm NOW' and deciding America probably wasn't interested in how sexually active they were, Rachel shoots him a warning glance.

Puck smirks knowingly. "Kind of. With Rach, I was able to put together everything we could remember, and since she's more familiar with the business, she got me in touch with one of her college friends, Billy Grains, who had turned several movies into off-off-off Broadway productions with success."

"He's part of Andrew Lloyd Webber's company now actually," Rachel adds.

He nods in agreement. "He was a lot of help. He edited everything I sent him and made it way cooler than I had originally written it. Then I interviewed Mr. Schue, Ms. P, Figgins and Sylvester, and they were like, totally psyched about the play and told me everything I needed to know to write it as truthful as possible."

"After the play had success in Cincinnati, we went on a tour around Ohio, Illinois, Indiana and Pennsylvania" Rachel continues. "Two years later, we came back to New York and staged it off-Broadway, inviting our high school friends to be a part of the production."

"With Finn Hudson as Schue, Tina Cohen Chang-Chang as Ms. Pillsbury and Kristin Chenoweth as Mrs. Schuester, not to mention the twelve talented kids we found starring as the gleeks, we made the transition from off-Broadway to Broadway in six months," Puck smiles proudly.

"And now, Hollywood," Akira grins. "And you kept the Broadway cast for the movie."

"Yeah, we also got our friends collaborating with the play, and now the with film," Noah puts in.

"Finn, Tina and Kurt reprise their roles beautifully," Rachel says enthusiastically. "And Mercedes Jones took time out of her concert tour to make an appearance starring as the vocal director of one of the groups we competed against."

"Mike Chang who, incidentally, is married to Tina, is my co-executive producer, and Matt Rutherford is the music supervisor and responsible for level of musical awesome we're able to offer."

"My dearest friend Quinn Fabray is the Head of Marketing. She's getting an aneurysm dealing with Noah as her boss but she does a fabulous job. Santana Lopez did all the choreography and as a former Cheerio, she coached me personally to really embody the competitiveness and drive of Sue Sylvester. Brittany Vogel is our costume designer. She did all the awesome tracksuits I get to wear on the film, as well as making sure each character's style from back then was kept true to our individual styles."

"She also designed your wedding dress, is that corrent?" Akira asks, marveling that twelve people who went to high school together were still apparently tightly bonded.

"That is correct," Rachel grins and shares a heated glance with Puck.

He had been torn on their wedding day. Rachel in a wedding dress? Hot as fuck. He couldn't wait to get her out of it. Problem was, when he finally got the chance to strip her, Brittany designed it on purpose to make peeling it off her was hard as fuck. In the end, Puck was whining and frustrated to the point he actually started crying and Rachel had to march to the front desk of the hotel they were staying at to get a pair of scissors.

"Yeah, and Artie Abrams is bringing his usual awesome to this, too." Puck shifts slightly on his seat. He is not having an honest-to-God hard-on right now, on national TV. His blood is _not_ drifting south. "Dude owns Spielberg's ass."

Rachel elbows him with a warning glance and Puck panics, realizing what he'd just said. "God rest his soul, though."

"Well, it's been lovely having you!" Akira stands and claps her hands, her producers buzzing in her ear. "Don't forget, GLEE comes out June 6th. Rachel Berry and Noah Puckerman, everybody!" The audience cheers. "And after the commercial, group therapies: valid psychological treatments or serial killers' all you can eat buffet? We'll be right back."

Seconds later, the producers give them the okay and Rachel and Puck stand up and take off the mics.

"Good luck with the premiere," Akira tells them wholeheartedly, kissing Rachel on the cheek and shaking Noah's hand before they exit the set, and all Puck can think of is _thank fuck that's over with._

oooo

"I'm not going to the premiere. I look like a whale no matter what I wear."

Puck sighs tiredly, rolling his eyes and making Caroline giggle as they both color the drawing they were slouching over.

"Tell mommy her booty is humongous," he whispers in his daughter's ear.

"Is that a good thing?" Caroline whispers back. As her daddy nods, she turns around and smiles. "Mommy! Your booty is hugmogoos!"

"Thank you sweetheart," when her daughter turns back to her drawing, Rachel scowls at Puck, who is sporting a shit-eating grin. "Just for that, you're banned from touching even an inch of my cylindrical form," she determines, turning back to inspect her reflection on the mirror, smoothing the fabric of the gown covering her belly.

Puck stands up and messes playfully with Caroline's dark brown hair before making his way toward Rachel and circling her expanded waist with his arms, placing his hands over her 25 week baby bump. Feeling her shiver against him, he leans down to place an open-mouthed kiss on her neck, her hands ghosting to join his.

"You're beautiful," Puck meets her eyes on the mirror, Caroline humming softly in the backround.

"Fine," she sinks back further into his chest, inhaling his scent. "I'll go tonight. But don't expect me to attend any after-party."

"Oh, but there's this one party you don't wanna miss," he smirks suggestively, nibbling her earlobe. "You, me, and any flat surface available. Watcha say?"

Rachel chuckles, a throaty sound she knows makes him crazy. "What about Caro?" she grinds herself against his rapidly reacting front.

"She'll be asleep when we get back, and a bulldozer would have to pass by her bedroom door for her to wake up."

She tilts her head to the side. Puck meets her halfway and kisses her soundly.

"Love ya, babe." Puck kisses the tip of her nose and releases her, walks back to the coffee table where Caroline is coloring, picks up a red crayon and helps her color some hearts around the drawing.

Rachel looks at herself in the mirror, bites her bottom lip, smiling. She caresses the swell of her ever-expanding belly, soothing the baby boy inside her whose favorite hobby nowadays was wiggling around her womb.

Fighting happy tears back (Shut up! She's hormonal. It's perfectly normal), Rachel joins her family around the coffee table.

"What are you working on sweetheart?" with some dificulty that makes Noah snicker, she lowers herself to the floor and sits next to Caroline. When the little girl wasn't looking, Rachel shoots her husband a glare and his snickering stops immediately.

"It's a happy picture! There's unicorns and rainbows and hearts and flowers and kittens and puppies," she grins widely. "Daddy wanted to draw something more badass, he complained a lot," she rolls her eyes in a way that made her mother proud.

"Lets see," Rachel grabs a yellow crayon and traces little stars here and there, where Caroline pointed.

That night, Noah and Rachel's limo is the last to arrive to the red carpet ceremony. Ahead of them, Finn is being interviewed by E!, questioning him about being recently spotted in various date-like locations with a TV star. Not far from him, Kurt poses for the cameras. Tina laughes as Mike jokes with their interviewer. Matt and Brittany show up with their respective dates, saying hi and being generaly cool. Artie and Santana (finally) uncloset their remantic relationship, rekindled in the past few months after being appart for several years. Mercedes marches gracefully, displaying her diva-ness.

They are all seated together in the theatre, and when the movie starts to roll, it's perfect.

Everything is.


End file.
